


Something Wicked

by MadameRemember



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gothic, Romance, Seduction, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:12:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameRemember/pseuds/MadameRemember
Summary: The daughter of a visiting noble leaves the safety of her father's protection for a night of revelry and adventure. But when she and her friend attend a gathering of the undead without invitation, she ends up with far more than what she bargained for.





	1. Compliance

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This was initially intended to be only a one-shot, but has since evolved into an entity of it's own. As of posting this, I'm still not entirely sure where this is going, but I'm excited to find out! However, because of the general lack of direction at present, updates will be sporadic and unpredictable. Rating might even go up in the future. Who knows? You have been warned!
> 
> Work also being posted on FFN under the pseud "Remember" and Wattpad under the pseud "MadameRemember". All rights reserved.

"They would tell you of a maiden tricked into eating the pomegranate, not the woman who laughed and swallowed twelve seeds whole."  
\- Caroline Ruth,  _A Lie Called Rapere, A Lie Called Rex_

 

_October 1888  
Budapest_

Donning an ebony colombina mask, a young woman watched with thinly veiled anticipation as the carriage continued to race through the spreading darkness. Elyse Dormer was taking quite the risk, leaving the protection of her father's rented rooms in the city without his knowledge and against his previously made commands that she remain indoors, especially on a night such as this. But as the favorite child of a widowed Viscount, she had always struggled with taking "no" for an answer – especially when her best friend and confidant, Violet, Baroness Hays, had been so insistent on this evening's undertaking.

The Viscount maintained that Violet was the worst sort of influence for his youngest and prettiest daughter. The Baroness was reckless and manipulative, outspoken and rash, but Elyse loved her friend, despite her sometimes questionable character, and if following Violet meant adventure instead of absolute boredom, she'd trail behind her auburn haired companion to the gates of hell and back if it meant they could have some fun along the way.

Although if the Vilkova palace was truly the hell those superstitious gossipers in town insisted it was, then perhaps she could endure the supposed risk of eternal damnation. From what she could make of the house as they made their way up the torch-lit drive, the structure rivaled many of the grand houses she had visited with her father in her twenty-one years of life. With spires that pierced a starlit sky, it was an imposing piece of architecture. But the golden light that shone from within was warm and beckoning from the frigid carriage she and Violet shared.

As they grew closer to the front steps of the palace, Elyse became more aware of the way her heart was pounding in her chest.

Oh, if only her father could see her now! He would undoubtedly faint at the thought of his Elle willingly entering the "home of the devil."

Elyse rolled her eyes at the juvenile thought, as if doing so would dispel the quiet anxiety that had settled in her gut when they had snuck out earlier in the evening.

Count Dracula was no devil, she mused silently. The rumors she had heard about the "wicked Count" during her visit to Budapest these last weeks were comical at best – that he was the king of vampires, that he preyed on innocent young women, ravishing their flesh before feasting on their blood and turning them into one of his soulless mistresses. She and Violet had laughed for hours at the absurd stories.

But it was when one of her maids insisted that the rumors had validity to them that Violet concocted the plan to discover the truth for themselves. They would sneak into the Count's private All Hallows Eve ball, and would prove once and for all that he was no demon from hell. There was, after all, no such thing as vampires.

The carriage finally pulled to a stop and both Elyse and Violet leaned forward to get a better look at the house as they waited for the footman to open the door.

"Isn't this exciting?" Violet asked as she adjusted the gold mask on her face. "A pity Charles refused to come with us. It's that infernal lover of his. I told him I wouldn't put up a fuss if he let me do as I pleased, but the man can still be so disagreeable at times. Perhaps I should have let him bring his whore… At least we wouldn't be completely starved of male company."

"Yes – I think I'd feel a little better about this excursion if the Baron were here. Who knows what sort of company we'll find in there."

"We don't need my husband's protection, if that's what you're insinuating," Violet insisted as the carriage door was opened. "Come – I know you want to know if this Count Dracula is truly as villainous as everyone says just as much as I do! He'll probably be a disappointment – some ordinary, foreign rake who has allowed his reputation to be blown completely out of proportion," and as soon as she was out of the carriage, she turned to wait for her friend. "And we've dealt with our share of rakes in the past."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Elyse agreed, nodding her gratitude to the footman for assisting her out of the carriage before her friend linked arms with her, leading her toward the glistening entrance. "But anything is better than wasting the evening in that dull hotel room."

"I couldn't agree more! Do you think we'll happen upon one of the Count's devil-worshiping concubines?" Violet said with a laugh.

"Do you really think they even exist?"

"Not at all. If a man like the Count were real, he would be ejected from all polite society before you could even blink. Do you genuinely believe there would be this many persons in attendance if the rumors were true? I wonder if there's anyone here we know?"

Elyse never offered a reply, for upon crossing the threshold into the foyer, all words became unnecessary. Within moments, the two women were surrounded by easily hundreds of guests, all masked and richly dressed in the finest silks, satins, and velvet that money could buy – the ladies with plumes in their hair and swan necks iced in extravagant jewels; the men's dark waistcoats glistening with gold buttons, and silk cravats tied to perfection.

Although the entrance hall was filled with bodies, the guests all chatting wildly as they came and went, the room seemed strangely chilly, frigid even, as if the roaring fires and candlelight offered no reprieve from the winter air gently moving down the corresponding hall. Elyse quickly dismissed the observation before her imagination could latch onto it, distracting herself by surveying the room further.

"I've never seen a house so richly furnished… well, a house owned by a bachelor, anyway," Violet whispered, equally as impressed as her presently silent friend.

They continued to travel with the crowd toward another pair of doors, which opened to the sound of laughter, conversation, and an orchestra at the far end of the hall, playing a quick-waltz. The walls of the ballroom appeared to be made of marble, the crown molding and panels lined with gold that glistened in the candlelight. Thick velvet drapes the color of blood shielded the windows, a few which were pulled back framing tall doors of dark oak. Statues bordered the dance hall, their lifeless eyes seeming to watch as they made their way through the room.

"Ooh! Wine! I'll go fetch us some," and before Elyse even had a moment to register that her friend had spoken, Violet had released her arm and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the young woman alone in a sea of masked revelers.

Elyse, though naturally fearless in social situations, suddenly felt terribly out of place. This certainly wasn't her first masquerade ball, nor was it the first time she had attended a party without invitation. But as she stood there, a solitary figure in a stunning gown, which held its own amongst the high fashions worn by the other women – she felt like an impostor, a fraud; as if every guest in the room was stealing glances at her as they passed by, as if they knew she did not belong there.

The sensation left Elyse uncharacteristically apprehensive.

Despite the silent scrutiny of the other guests as she approached one of the empty chairs along the wall, there was something about the scene itself which felt stilted, off key just slightly – though she could not put her finger on the cause. The party itself was the liveliest she had ever attended, the decorations utterly flawless, the guests even more so… and the music…

The steady rhythm of the waltz was having the most peculiar affect on her brain. The constant twirling of the gaily-dressed dancers, the relentless one two three, one two three, one two three…

Elyse suddenly felt faint. The entire room seemed to spin and blur, slowly, like something out of a dream.

Was it the unidentifiable, yet sickeningly sweet stench that seemed to permeate the room?

Maybe it was the music?

Or perhaps it was the dark man donning a gold cape in the center of the dance floor?

Elyse's brows furrowed when that last thought skidded across her brain, and with a slight shake of her head she was able to momentarily dispel her peculiar light-headedness, allowing her to focus on the man a couple of yards ahead of her.

The stranger was of handsome build, with dark hair, a golden mask, and the most intense eyes. He was dancing with arguably one of the most striking women Elyse had ever seen – a lithe beauty with red hair and a jeweled scarlet gown. The man's dance partner seemed enthralled just to be in his arms, but he wasn't even looking at her. His attention had found Elyse on the other side of the room and though she could not really make out the expression of his face, a single look from him sent a chill down her spine and she shivered visibly as though from the cold.

With every turn he made on the dance floor, his gaze always seemed to return to her.

That anxious, out-of-place feeling became more poignant in the forefront of Elyse's mind and she soon discovered herself feeling vulnerable, a little humiliated even, residing under this stranger's scrutiny.

Before she could lose her nerve and run for the exit, Violet reappeared with two glasses of wine, one in each hand.

"Isn't this a fantastic party?" the Baroness exclaimed, handing one of the refreshments to Elyse who took it with noted hesitance. "I'm so glad we came. And there are so many agreeable men here! Maybe one of them will oblige me in teaching my foolish husband a lesson?"

"Vi, I think we should go," Elyse whispered. "Something about this doesn't feel right."

"Nonsense! That's just that Catholic guilt talking. I've told you a hundred times before, Elyse – if you want something in this life, you have to take it. You wanted to attend the ball tonight, so we have. You wanted to find out if Count Dracula is really Count Dracula at all – and we shall! The night is still young! Which one do you think is him?" and after a deep drink from her glass, Violet began to study the multitude with blatant interest.

Elyse had struggled to keep her attention fixed on her friend as she spoke, but with the end of the dialogue came an end to her resolve. Her eyes scanned the crowd through the holes of her black mask and within moments, she had found him again – the intense, yet handsome stranger – only this time, he was dancing with a lovely brunette, also in a red gown.

The detail regarding the frock gave Elyse a queer thought.

"Don't you think it's odd how no one here is wearing red except for those two women?"

"Which women?"

"The ones over there. The man with the gold cape has only danced with those two the entire time we've been here and no one else."

"Maybe that's the Count!" Violet said a little louder than Elyse would have liked and she could feel herself blushing when the stranger's eyes found hers again – although instead of an unreadable expression, she could have sworn she saw those thin lips smile just faintly as if he could hear their private conversation. But before Elyse could comment on it, the man spun his dark-haired partner around again and disappeared into the crowd.

"Violet, truly, I think we should…"

"Now here is a tragic sight!" someone said and the women turned to find a pair of gentlemen approaching, both dressed in regal looking costumes, their faces masked. "A pair of stunning sirens without dance partners! It's an outrage, Lucas! An absolute travesty!"

The speaker was a tall man donning a mask replicating a human skull, his dusty blonde hair pulled back into a small ponytail.

"Niklaus, don't be dramatic. You'll frighten them," his companion said with a smile, and though the young woman wanted to believe he was joking, that anxious knot in her stomach only tightened as they drew near.

Was she being paranoid? Was her imagination getting the better of her? Or was she truly in danger? She hardly knew, but she never had the chance to ponder it further as Violet immediately began to engage the two handsome men in conversation.

Elyse said nothing as the others spoke, studying the men with uncertainty. They were charming to be sure – the one called Lucas especially. He had kind eyes and a sympathetic air about him, yet still Elyse could not shake the feeling that something was amiss.

"My friend and I were just disparaging over the fact that we seem to be unacquainted with a single soul here – at least that we can tell," Violet continued flirtatiously. She was already sinking her claws into the one called Niklaus and for a moment, Elyse pitied the man.

"Are you here just the two of you? Or perhaps your husband is nearby?" Niklaus inquired.

"What? Charles? He's too busy making a fool of himself over some overrated actress. I tried to get him to join us in the festivities, did I not, Elyse? But the man is impossible!"

"Well, at least you are not alone now that we have become acquainted," Lucas replied with a charismatic smile.

"And since your husband is not here to do his duty, may I have the honor of dancing the next with you, madam?" Niklaus queued, offering his gloved hand to Violet. "I see us becoming quite the best of friends." The Baroness accepted him without question, immediately lost in the gaze of the dashing man who pulled her into his arms before the two vanished in the emerald swirl of Violet's ball gown.

Elyse glanced shyly up at Lucas.

She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as he took her in.

"And what about you and I, miss Dormer?" the young man inquired. "May I have this dance?"

Elyse was quick to discover that her tongue would not move. No word ever left her lips, not a single syllable was even uttered. She was strangely speechless and whether it was the unexplainable anxiety or some other nefarious power, she could not be certain.

The young woman looked out at the crowd to see if she could locate her friend, but all she saw was the man in the gold cape. He was alone now, but still watching her closely. His amused smile from before was gone and his intense gaze sent another shudder down her spine.

Without even realizing it, she found herself nodding in acceptance to Lucas' offer and the young man led her out onto the floor and into a steady waltz.

He spoke as they danced, but his words seemed oddly foreign to her, distant and strange. As he twirled her about, he seemed to draw her in with his eyes, and every time she broke the contact to search the crowd for Violet, he would pull her closer to him.

The longer they waltzed, the more unlike herself she began to feel. Although that nauseating anxiety from earlier was diminishing, it was being replaced with something far more hollow and frightening. Elyse felt muted somehow, as though she were a small and solitary being in a vast and empty ocean. Her will no longer seemed her own, for when Lucas pressed her firmly against himself, her instinct was to retreat, yet she could not move despite her mind screaming for her to do so.

Had it been something in the wine? Was this one of those horrid libertine parties she had heard of but had never before experienced herself?

No… it could not be. No drug she knew of could make her feel thus – so helpless and yet so very conscious of all that was happening around her. She seemed so heavy, confined, as though her limbs were paralyzed and the young man before her was inexplicably holding her strings.

When he spun her about, she danced.

When he pressed his hand to her lower back just so, she leaned back effortlessly into a low dip.

And when he brushed his lips against her mouth, she did not recoil, though his boldness and her inability to resist terrified her more than anything else.

"Tell me, Miss Dormer, are you frightened?" Lucas asked in low, suggestive tones. He caressed her cheek with the tip of his nose and Elyse was certain she would soon faint.

"Yes," she answered, suddenly able to speak.

"Tell me how frightened you are," he implored and she felt something scrape against her neck teasingly – his teeth, perhaps? But they seemed so sharp…

"Let me go," she whimpered. "Please… Don't hurt me."

"But isn't that why you came here? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Please, stop."

"Yes, that's it…. Beg me to stop. I love it when you mortals beg."

Elyse went to scream, but no noise ever escaped her. She could feel his icy breath on her neck, the chilly moistness of his tongue running along her skin. Her heart plummeted into her gut as a confusing wave of euphoria and terror drowned her.

Oh, if only she had stayed home like her father had said. If only she hadn't listened to Violet. If only, if only, if only…

Lucas was no dangerous philanderer, and the lengthy canines in his toothy grin solidified that fact.

He was a vampire!

They  _did_  exist!

Elyse blanched in terror, but before Lucas could sink his fangs into her neck, she was abruptly released, and though her eyes were closed, she could feel herself falling… and then spinning, caught up in a whirl of inhuman strength as she was whisked out of the room in a blur.

When she opened her eyes, she discovered that she was now in an empty and dimly lit hallway. Whatever power the otherworldly Lucas had held over her soon diminished and when she was herself again, her whole body shuddered as she realized who her savior had been.

The dark stranger.

He had rid himself of his gold cloak and mask, but the ferocity in his unearthly blue eyes made her gasp, and in a moment of perfect clarity, Elyse understood exactly who he was – the infamous man she had heard all the stories of. The rumors and descriptions did not do him justice, but for some reason, though she had never been in his presence before tonight, she knew the figure towering before her was none other than the infamous Count Dracula.

She prepared herself to scream, but before the cry could even properly build in her throat he held up his hand.

"You will be silent, Miss Dormer," Dracula commanded and with a snap, her mouth closed. "How  _dare_ you enter my home without invitation? I would have expected this behavior from the likes of the Baroness, but not from the daughter of a Viscount."

"You know who I am?"

"Of course I know who you are," he stated with mild irritation. "It takes more than a pretty mask to acquire true anonymity, Miss Dormer."

"I am sorry for intruding like this. Had I known the truth…"

"What? That vampires are real and this was a gathering of the undead, you would have stayed away? Don't insult my intelligence. You are not the first ignorant child seduced by the dark romance of the supernatural."

"So it's true, then? You're really a…"

"What I am is irrelevant. You are in danger here, and this is no place for the daughter of a noble. Had I not intervened just now, you would have been lost to your father forever and that kind of publicity is not what my kind needs at present. Not with the likes of Van Helsing lurking about."

"Van Helsing? Who's that?"

"It does not matter. Come – I shall escort you to your carriage and you will go home this instant," and he began to lead her down the hall towards the main foyer.

"But my friend…"

"Is undoubtedly beyond saving at this point. Knowing Niklaus, your dear Baroness' reputation has already been compromised."

"I don't care about her reputation," Elyse insisted, suddenly finding her courage again. It was strange – she felt more like herself in the Count's presence than she had all evening. "If Violet's life is in danger, then you must save her!"

"After everything that woman has put you through?" Dracula asked, turning around to send her an incredulous look. "Miss Dormer, allow me to speak frankly – you are young, and I know the likes of the  _right honorable_ Lady Violet Baroness Hays," and he said the name with a degree of irony, "may seem exciting, but she is a married woman of nine-and-twenty. Her marriage is in shambles and in order to feel better about herself, she derives pleasure from manipulating and ruining the lives of younger and prettier girls who are easy prey.  _You_ , Miss Dormer, are such easy prey. You are impressionable, naïve, and if you knew what was good for you, you would leave Lady Violet to her fate."

"I'm not leaving without her," Elyse insisted boldly, though privately curious as to how he knew so much about Violet and herself. "I don't care if what you say is true or not, she doesn't deserve to be victim to the likes of Niklaus – or any man."

"Miss Dormer, I'm warning you…"

"Take me to her, at once!"

Dracula paused, evidently surprised by her audacious outburst, but when his astonishment diminished, his brows relaxed. He studied her closely, as if considering something.

"Stay here, and I will fetch her."

"No. I'm going with you."

"Miss Dormer, I must insist," Dracula said in softer tones, though it was clear he was gradually losing patience with her.

"I said I'm going with you."

He sighed, relenting.

"Very well, but be warned, what you will see cannot be unseen."

"I'm not a child."

His expression suggested otherwise, but he nodded silently and motioned for her to follow him down a darkened corridor. Without knocking, Dracula unceremoniously entered a room at the end of the hall, Elyse close behind.

What they discovered within was Niklaus and Violet situated awkwardly on a card table, the man's trousers around his ankles and the Baroness' gown hiked up past her knees. She seemed to be in a daze, the front of her bodice pulled down and her neck smeared in blood as two frightening looking bite marks marred her flesh.

Niklaus, sensing the intrusion, froze in place before turning his head quickly, eyes glowing and feral, mouth dripping with crimson. Elyse gripped the frame of the door for support and she watched as with a single movement of the Count's head, Niklaus quickly tidied himself, exiting from the room in a silent blur of cloak and blonde hair.

When he was gone, Dracula motioned for Elyse to enter and the girl immediately ran to her friend, lowering her skirts to make her more decent before examining the frightful wound on the side of her throat.

"Oh Violet…" she cried out, hand hovering over trembling lips. "What has he done to you?"

"If you leave now, I can have a physician at your hotel by the time you arrive to attend to her," Dracula explained, discovering Nikalus' silk cravat left behind on the floor and using it to bind Violet's wound. Elyse feebly attempted to rouse her.

"Will she live?"

"If you hurry, yes."

Dracula moved in and lifted the Baroness into his arms to carry her out of the room.

Within moments, they were outside in the cold night air, and the young woman watched as Dracula placed the unconscious Violet into the carriage. Without a word, he took Elyse's hand and led her in after her friend, shutting the carriage door with resolution. He then turned to the driver, ready to command him to depart when a hand grabbed hold of his shoulder.

"Wait!" Elyse exclaimed.

"There is no time, Miss Dormer. You must leave now if your friend is to live."

"But… I cannot leave without at least thanking you," she insisted. "You could have left us there, at the mercy of your kind, but you did not. I owe you my life."

"I was feeling uncharacteristically generous," he said with a hint of wry amusement, but his attempt to deflect her gratitude was unsuccessful.

"How can I ever repay you, Count?" Elyse asked, and the sincerity in her tone took him by surprise.

His expression softened before he smiled a bit ironically, taking her hand from his shoulder.

"Do not be so ready to offer yourself to a stranger, Miss Dormer," he teased.

"But there must be some way I can repay you. You saved me…"

Dracula, still holding her wrist, raised her hand before removing her glove thoughtfully. His flesh was cold against her own, and yet there was a tenderness in his grasp that she had not expected. He held her gaze with ease and she watched as he lowered his head so he could kiss her upturned palm. She flushed at the gesture, an illicit pleasure coiling in her womb as he regarded her with a consideration that had not been there before.

"Do not trouble your mind with debts now, my lady. When your friend is safe and all is well, then you and I can discuss your recompense."

Before Elyse could ask what he had in mind, the driver cracked his whip and the carriage took off into the night.

* * *

It would be some weeks later when Elyse would find herself in that same carriage, traveling along the familiar road leading to the summer palace of Count Dracula once again – only this time, she was alone and she had a personally addressed invitation in hand. She had been surprised to receive the letter from the Count, formally requesting a private audience with her at his home at sundown.

The young woman had almost declined the invitation, as it would be improper for her to be alone with a man of his reputation with no chaperon present. A gentleman would have come to her instead of demanding she come in all this state – alone, no less – just to see him. Though perhaps in a way, maybe that was for the best.

With Violet and her husband having relocated to Venice to finish out the winter season shortly after her recovery, and the Viscount away for the evening on business, Elyse could think of no excuse to refuse the invitation of this man – none that he would accept, anyway. No one would note her absence for the couple of hours she would be gone, and she was in the vampire's debt, whether she presently liked it or not. She only hoped that the Dracula she would meet with this evening would be the same respectful Count she had crossed paths with a fortnight ago.

The carriage finally came to a halt and Elyse exited from the coach with the help of the footman, whom she left with instructions to send for help if she did not return with further instruction within the hour. When her wishes were understood, she turned slowly, leaning her head back as to gather a better view of the house.

How different the palace seemed this night.

The torches, which had illuminated the drive the night of the ball, were extinguished. The golden light and lively music that had once flooded the house were absent. Upon reaching the front door, she found it to be ajar, not a single creature in sight as she entered, calling out to the empty foyer only to receive a reply from her echo.

The last remaining hints of day were her only available light as she removed the hood from her head. Carefully curled tresses the color of wheat bouncing slightly as she traveled with a dreamlike familiarity through the entry and down the hall toward the ballroom.

Though it had been some time since that fateful evening, she could still recall each detail with perfect clarity – the Viennese waltz, the stunningly dressed guests, the way the rich décor glistened in the candlelight.

But what had once been an immaculate and flawlessly kept home was now empty and in disarray. The floor was covered with dust – or perhaps it was ash? She could not be certain – and though she was alone in the darkened corridor, the walls felt haunted somehow.

At last she reached the doors she had been looking for and as she entered the ballroom, she noticed a solitary figure clad in black, standing in the center of the room that was flooded with the last rays of a dying sun, casting pink streams of light on the floor through one of the broken windows.

"Count?"

His back was to her, but she knew it to be him as she caught a glimpse of his profile, his head turned somewhat so he could study the trapeze wires still fastened to the ceiling of the upper level.

"Though I've lived nearly half a dozen lifetimes, I often forget how fleeting the things of this world are," he said, a sorrow in his tone she had not yet heard before. "I don't know how you mortals do it… living day to day not knowing which will be your last, going to bed each night with the faith that in the morning you will rise and that which you love – your family and friends, your possessions, your comforts – will all be there the next day. The uncertainty is… vexing."

Elyse watched in silence as the eternally youthful nobleman reached down to take a fist full of ash into his hand. He held it up so he could watch as it drifted back down to the floor in a stream like find sand.

"One moment, everything you have ever wanted, all the things you have worked so hard to obtain, to achieve, are in your grasp and then in an instant they're gone forever…"

When the ash had finished falling from his hand, he stood and turned to look at the woman before him, but for the briefest of moments, it was as though he couldn't even see her – not as she was, anyway.

"You have no idea what it is like… living for an eternity, watching the world perish around you, but you keep living on, the only unchanging thing in an ever changing world. That kind of solitude… it's not a blessing. It's a curse. It's maddening, it's cruel, it's… "

"It's unfair," she finished for him, and when he noticed the solemnity in her tone, his expression altered somewhat.

"Yes… yes, it is unfair. The unjust punishment from an unjust God for daring to take control over my own destiny," and with a clap of his hands, the ashy residue dispersed from his flesh in a small cloud of dust. "But I have not summoned you here for your pity, Miss Dormer. I believe you and I have some unfinished business to attend to."

At the reminder of her debt, Elyse felt her heart quicken and she inhaled deep in an effort to calm herself.

"Tell me, Miss Dormer – when I saved the life of you and your companion the night you entered my home uninvited – when you offered me repayment, was there something you had in mind?"

The question was brusque and to the point, something she had not anticipated and it caught her off guard.

"I… um…"

"Come, come, child – quiet your nerves. You have no reason to indulge in them. I will not bite unless you ask me to."

The darkness of his humor was meant to alleviate her anxiety, but it only seemed to worsen it.

"Honestly, Count, I cannot say…" she began, but he interrupted her, taking a step forward.

"Can't or won't?" he asked with sudden slyness. "There's no need to stand on ceremony here, Miss Dormer. Though you feign ignorance, I have lived many decades and have known a great many women – and your maiden blush betrays you."

Elyse suddenly became aware of how hot her cheeks felt, and his pointing it out only made things worse. Her eyes left his and fell quickly to the floor in embarrassment.

"Sir, I…"

"There's no need to be embarrassed. It's like I said to you that night… you are not the first to be seduced by the dark romance of the supernatural," and with his extended hand, he took her chin, gently raising her eyes to meet his once again. "I'm feeling uncharacteristically generous again, my dear, so I'll take pity on you."

The fingers that had been delicately holding her chin caressed down the side of her neck before slipping within the opening of her cloak and sweeping along her collarbone. Though her eyes remained fixed on his face, his attention had trailed down to where his fingers lingered, studying the soft swell of unblemished cleavage which gently rose and fell with every breath she took.

The spark of lust in his eyes was unmistakable and though the unspoken suggestion had a degree of appeal to her, the prospect frightened her as well.

"I shall spare you the indignity of vocalizing the way in which you'd prefer to express your gratitude, Miss Dormer, and instead, allow me to offer you a suggestion which should appease us both – for the time being, anyway."

Elyse swallowed hard in anticipation, struggling to keep from openly sighing in response to his touch.

"I won't ask you for your virtue, though sorely I am tempted," he whispered. "The devil knows what a pretty thing you are."

"Then what would you ask of me, Count?" she managed, though her voice was not as strong as she would have liked. How this man had such an impact on her, she'd never understand.

Dracula brushed the back of his two fingers along the front of her gown in a taunting manner before idly tracing the jacquard pattern of her bodice with vague interest.

"Two things, Elyse… I may call you Elyse, may I not? I think after the things we've shared, a degree of familiarity is warranted."

When she didn't offer a rebuttal, he continued.

"The first – I would like to request a favor of you. Not now, of course, but in the future, should I require something of you, you will comply, no questions asked. I give you my word, I will not ask you to do anything you will not already wish to do. Do you accept?"

She nodded.

"And the second thing?"

At this, his careful hand took hold of her waist and he led her closer to him, all the while holding her gaze.

"A kiss," he said softly.

The request should have come as no surprise to her, but still she found herself taken aback.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just a token of good will, a mere trifle. I also happen to have it on good authority that in this I won't be your first."

Elyse lifted her hands to push him away, but he wrapped his arm around her before she could put any distance between them and held her fast.

"Now, now… there's no need to be modest. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just a kiss, my dear. Not a marriage proposal," and with his other hand he cradled the side of her face, the way in which he looked into her eyes calming her somewhat.

"Why would you want to kiss me?"

"Why any man would  _not_ want to is a more appropriate question, I think."

"We barely know each other."

"Perhaps… but relationships have been built on far less."

"But we're not in a relationship!"

"Of the romantic sort, you are absolutely right… but remember you owe me, Miss Dormer, and if I were less of a gentleman, I could finish what Lucas had started."

It was more of an observation than a threat, but whatever his intention behind bringing up the events of that fateful evening, it put an end to Elyse's struggle.

"Very well," she relented, though her hesitation still lingered.

"Good girl," Dracula said with a faint smile as he started to lean forward.

"Why do I feel like I've just made a deal with the devil?" the young woman asked him softly as he brushed the tip of his nose against hers.

"Not the devil, my dear… only his son."

And then he kissed her.


	2. Inducement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work also being posted on FFN under the pseud "Remember" and Wattpad under the pseud "MadameRemember". All rights reserved.

" _Only if you wish_ , he says.  _I would never try to bind you down here_. She gazes at him. The fire in her eyes is a burnished red, like her mother's spring-damp roses.  _Of course_ , she says, and pulls out her carving knife to slice the fruit open."  
\- Keaton Michael,  _Dictionary Poem - Pomegranate_

 

_January 1890  
London_

Elyse was seated comfortably in the floral armchair closest to the fire in her sister-in-law's parlor, idly thumbing through the tome resting in her lap. The volume was one her fiancé of three months, the charming and well-connected Lord Gregory Ashton, had recommended she read. It was a strange text, a study of different shrubs and flowers, all with intriguing connections to the myths and folklore of the eastern part of the continent. Lord Ashton had found the Baroness' romanticized and exaggerated account of she and Elyse's misadventure to the summer palace of the vampire king, Count Dracula, quite humorous and had made it a habit of mocking the ladies with book recommendations surrounding the supernatural and the occult ever since.

The Baroness, of course, had no stomach for such things, declaring resolute in her desire – naturally post-teasing – to forget the entire affair.

Her mysterious "accident" at the ball had surprisingly inspired the Baron to abandon his mistress and return to his wife shortly after the news of her taking ill had reached his ears. While the couple had enjoyed some months of marital fidelity, both man and wife proved far too rooted in their respective bad habits and by autumn of the following year, Charles had once more begun to wander. Falling head over heels in love with an opera singer proved to be his undoing, and when he had all but abandoned his wife to pursue the lovely soprano, Violet had decided enough was enough.

Just last month, she had finally confided in her friend that like her husband, she too had chosen to take a lover, although the Baroness refused to reveal the identity of the cad to Miss Dormer. Elyse wasn't particularly injured by her friend's sudden indiscretion. She had always known Baroness Hays to be of the fickle and amoral sort. In truth, it was something she had always admired in some strange sort of way – that sense of reckless abandon, the freedom of spirit.

Yet, Elyse Dormer's experiences in Budapest had changed her. She remained the same loving daughter and devoted friend she had always been, but her encounter with the son of the devil had left her suddenly docile, contemplative even. The woman often found herself struggling to be fully present in the moment as she had once been. To her friends and family, it was as though she were somewhere else, always on the fringes of distraction.

In truth, even with her upcoming nuptials, her father's work abroad, her energetic nieces and nephews, and her best friend's infidelities and near-shattered marriage – none of that could fully pull her from her thoughts of Count Dracula. Not for long, anyway.

It had been over a year since that night in Budapest and he had yet to make contact with her. She still owed him a favor and if there was one thing Elyse detested it was being in someone else's debt for longer than was necessary. But if Miss Dormer was anything, she was forbearing, and so she continued to endure the sound of her best friend prattling away about the latest gossip from town as she perused the book in front of her.

Violet took a seat on the chaise lounge with a dramatic sigh.

"Honestly, I don't know why I bother going out into society anymore. Everyone treats me like I'm some sort of social pariah. I don't see how that's fair. It's not my fault my insipid husband can't keep what little is in his trousers to himself. I mean really. He is so selfish. Never thinks of me at all."

"Well, in Charles' defense, Vi, you aren't exactly a paragon of virtue," Elyse countered, looking up from her book. The historical connections between wolfsbane and vervaine would clearly have to wait.

"I'm just following his lead," the Baroness insisted, though she smirked a little at her friend's comment. "I don't see why men are celebrated for their affairs, whereas we women are forced to live forever unsatisfied and silent. It's unfair."

"It is the way of the world."

"Well, just because that is the way society decides things must be, doesn't mean I have to condone or live by such hypocrisy. If Charles insists on taking lovers while being the talk of the town, I don't see why I can't do the same."

"You've been very good about keeping  _your_ affair hush hush from most polite society," Elyse pointed out with a sly grin. "You won't even tell  _me_  the man's name!"

"He made me swear not to. If the wrong person discovered us, it could ruin us both. Honestly, Elyse, I don't need any more scandal in my life, thank you."

"Is he really such a prominent figure?"

"Quite so," Violet answered with pride. "Fortunately, there's no nagging wife to ruin everything – only a fiancée who remains utterly ignorant."

"I don't know whether I pity her or if I'm grateful on her behalf," she admitted, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned to the side a bit. "Hopefully she's no one we know, or that would be most awkward."

"Indeed… ah! Lord Ashton! What a pleasure it is to see you," Violet called as her eyes darted toward the door at the other end of the room. She extended her hand out to Elyse's intended with a radiant smile.

"Baroness. I had no idea you would be here at this hour," Lord Ashton announced, nodding in her direction before his eyes caught Elyse's.

"Your charming fiancée invited me over to dine with you all this evening, and to help with the wedding details."

"The Baron still chasing that soprano about the country?"

"Tragically."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear it. Good evening, my dear," and he leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on Elyse's waiting hand before returning his attention to the woman seated on the chaise lounge.

"Violet was just telling me how hypocritical it is that you men can parade about with your whores and concubines, but if a woman takes a lover, that makes her an outsider," Elyse explained. "Although I don't necessarily agree that liaisons in general are a recommended practice, especially when there are other parties that could be injured by association, I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment."

"Honestly Baroness, I must insist that you cease in this poisoning of my future wife's unblemished mind. You keep this up and I will have to punish you, as your husband isn't here to do it for me," Lord Ashton teased, making sure his back was to Elyse so she couldn't see the look in his eyes.

"You mustn't tease me, Lord Ashton. It's cruel," Violet pouted. "Elyse, tell your beast of a fiancé to behave more like a gentleman!" and she looked over at her friend as the man politely kissed her offered hand.

Miss Dormer only rolled her eyes, smiling faintly.

"Gregory, you must be gentle with her. Violet is feeling particularly delicate today," she answered playfully.

"I am not! Why I never… Elyse Dormer! Truly, you're as terrible as him. You two deserve each other!"

"I'd have to disagree, Baroness. I don't think anyone could ever by worthy of my little sister," a voice called out from the hall as Elyse's elder brother and master of the house, Christopher, entered the room. He had a handful of letters in his possession as he made his way over to the company. "No offense of course, Gregory," and he extended his hand to his sister's intended.

"None taken, old chap," Lord Ashton said with a laugh.

Christopher then handed Elyse the afternoon post, as it was all addressed to her. Most of the letters were responses to the wedding invitations she had sent out two weeks ago, save one.  _The Honorable Elyse Dormer_  had been meticulously written across the front of one envelope in particular, the script drawn out in a neat and precise hand, unmistakably masculine, yet still elegant.

The handwriting of a gentleman.

Elyse would have recognized that scrawl anywhere, for how often had she studied a similar letter written in the same hand over and over again in those solitary moments of the night when all were asleep. Save she with her memories and the fantasies that always ensued.

The dragon insignia of the wax seal on the back confirmed all suspicion and the young woman felt her heart skip a beat as her breath caught in her throat.

Dracula.

The Count was the author of this note!

Was he in London? Had he come to claim the debt she owed him? What would he ask for? Would she be able to say yes?

Close to being overpowered by the anticipation, Elyse took a single deep and calming inhale before fighting to compose herself, not wishing to draw the attention of her present company. She broke the seal and carefully pulled the single piece of paper from its wrapping. Bringing the folded sheet to her nose, she stealthily inhaled the scent of the paper, curious to see if it smelled like him.

The young woman was pleased to find that it did, though just faintly – a dizzying blend of pine, leather, and a musky spice that immediately brought to mind memories of when they had last encountered one another.

The empty ballroom of the Vilkova Palace had been flooded with the last rays of the setting sun, streams of rose-colored light coming in through a broken window, catching the glistening crystals of the chandelier above. She could still see the Count's expression of solemnity in her mind's eye, recalling how he had studied the ash-littered dance floor, eyes filled with a loneliness she hadn't understood then but had come to empathize with after all this time.

The letter in her hand seemed to evoke more memories, like the way his gaze had become more animated when he looked at her, the playfulness in his expression, the way his words seemed to carefully balance that line between teasing and earnestness.

Before she could consciously reflect on the details of their kiss that had followed, her rational mind had already begun to reclaim control. In an effort to distract herself, her eyes poured over the single line of text in front of her. His note comprised of a line of verse from the bible, ironically enough, a passage from the book of Ecclesiastes –

_Better is it that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou shouldest vow and not pay._

So he had remembered their deal after all, and the time had finally come for him to collect.

Elyse could feel the heat in her cheeks deepen as she folded the note and slipped it into the hidden pocket of her skirt, eyes glazed over as her mind ran rampant with thoughts and questions.

He had told her that night in Budapest that this day would come – that he would ask her for a favor, though for what he had never explained. The only assurance he had provided was a promise that his demands would not conflict with her own interests or desires.

So why the cryptic bible verse? That it was better to not vow to do something at all versus making a promise and not keeping it? Did he doubt the sincerity of her word? Was he merely teasing her? Why had he not given her more of an explanation?

For the remainder of the evening and well into the night, Elyse found herself completely consumed in the mire of her own thoughts. Lying in bed for hours after the rest of the household had retired for the day, the stillness and solitude proved to do little for her nerves. She was a mess of anxiety and anticipation for the revealing of the Count's will, and secretly dreading that what he would ask of her would indeed be something she could not deliver.

It had been over a year since she had last seen him. Why had he waited so long to make contact? Why now?

Frustrated with her restless mind, Elyse groaned in agitation as she surrendered to her sleepless state and finally crawled out of bed. The room was cold, the burning embers within the fireplace providing little heat, as if the cold from the darkness consumed all. She grabbed her Parisian shawl from the edge of her bed – a Christmas gift from her father who was still away on business – and wrapped it around her shoulders in a futile effort to ward away the chill while making herself a little more decent.

Her aimless wandering about the room eventually brought her over to the window in some vain hope that the sight of the slumbering London town would distract her. The sky was momentarily clear and filled with stars, rooftops blanketed in the fresh snow that had fallen just hours ago. But the serene view offered her little comfort as she looked out at the night from her shadowed chamber, thoughts filled with the Count – his face, his words, the memories.

The letter he had sent must have been a courtesy, she concluded after some deliberation of thought. Perhaps it had been meant as a mode of caution, a friendly warning that the time was near and she needed to prepare herself.

Elyse decided in that moment that she was ready for whatever it was that he would ask of her. He had assured her that he wouldn't require her to do anything she did not wish to do, and though she had faith in his promise, a part of her wondered how he could possibly know the desires or intentions of her heart.

"Your eyes often betray you," his voice answered from behind and she jumped, startled by the sound and his sudden presence as she spun around quickly. He was standing in front of the entrance to her bedroom, which appeared securely shut from what she could tell.

She felt her jaw slacken in her surprise, lips parting in wonder.

"How… how did you get in here?"

"Through the door," he answered with a noted hint of cheek.

"It's after midnight! The servants… everyone has been asleep for hours. Who let you in? I thought your kind had to be invited in."

"The housekeeper invited me in," he explained in casual tones, taking a step forward as he removed his kid-gloves carefully.

"But Mrs. Jennings would never let a stranger enter at this hour – nor would she allow a man she doesn't know to help himself into the private chambers of…" but she paused as the realization skidded across her mind. "You did something to her."

The Count shrugged.

"I assure you, your Mrs. Jennings is perfectly safe. She just proved to be very – how shall I put this delicately? – simple-minded. Unlike her mistress, of course," and with a single elegant movement, his cloak and gloves found their way to the edge of her bed as he continued to approach, one single step at a time. "You however, Miss Dormer… you continue to impress me. A feat few of your sex could boast."

At last he stood before her, and though he remained a respectable distance from her person, Elyse could feel the power radiating from him. It had been over a year since they had last shared the same space and yet it felt as though it were yesterday.

In that moment, she could recall their past encounters with the utmost clarity and while she was certain she had changed in appearance and temperament, Count Dracula seemed completely unaltered. His presence was just as commanding as she remembered it, one look managing to simultaneously unnerve and ease her in a solitary wave of contradicting yet harmonious feeling.

Self-preservation had her wanting to step away from him, while instinct demanded she move closer. She remained, however, rooted to the spot, eyes full of feeling while the rest of her stayed very still, controlled. It was unprecedented how the mere manifestation of this man was enough to leave her feeling quite undone, yet Elyse found herself inexplicably determined to not let her weakness show. She couldn't explain where such a resolve came from, but the young woman never questioned it and her apparent lack of a notable reaction to his presence seemed to amuse him.

"Still strong willed," he mused softly. "So well contained, so controlled… despite the ferocity bubbling in the very heart of you. I believe I neglected to tell you this when last we met, Miss Dormer, but you truly would make an excellent vampire."

Although his comment took her aback, Elyse made certain she remained on point. It was the only thing she could do to keep from sounding too much like a simpleton.

"You really shouldn't be in here," she chided him carefully. "These are my private chambers and to be in here at this time of night without invitation… this is highly irregular, Count."

That charming smile of his grew more devilish.

"Ah, but what exists between you and I is beyond regular societal convention. Wouldn't you agree?"

Elyse found herself suddenly grateful for the darkness. With her back to the light of the street lamps just outside her window, her face was left in shadow which meant it would be impossible for him to see the way in which she blushed –  _unless he can see in the dark_ , some ironic voice in her head mocked.

But the look he was giving her made her feel exposed almost, as if he could see beyond her carefully constructed mask of disapproval and into the secret lusts of her very soul.

The intensity of his stare sent a small shiver down her spine as her conscious mind turned scarlet with the recollections of their kiss that evening in Budapest – the first part of her repayment to him for saving the lives of both her and the Baroness. Why her mind was suddenly possessed by the memory she didn't know, but she couldn't stop it. Something about this man made it near impossible to ignore her baser instincts.

Their kiss, she recalled, had started out as a single one, a pair of unfamiliar lips lightly pressed one against another, until he had pulled away just briefly as if to catch her reaction. Elyse had thought that would be the end of it, but before she could open her eyes, she had felt him lowering his mouth again toward hers, the approach slow, deliberate – his hand gently holding her chin, leading her back to him.

His lips had sealed over hers once again, this time with a sudden boldness that had stolen what was left of her air, the arm he had coiled around her waist tightening its hold as he had taken her mouth with a shocking kind of expertise. His kiss and the kisses that had followed had been skilled and hungry, a slanting, suckling possession that had left her wilting into him without thought as her arms coiled around his neck in order to keep herself upright.

The pleasure at being so near to him, she recalled, had been alarming and mind numbing, his steady hands and strong arms having made her feel oddly safe when she should have recoiled for fear of her virtue. But Elyse had been unable to withstand the temptation he had presented; and even now with the mere phantom memories of his tongue in her mouth and the uncharacteristic greed it had inspired in her… the memories were enough to steal her breath once again.

His eyes seemed to darken while her mind recollected that night as if he could see her thoughts, the faint curve of his thin lips suggesting he approved of how well she remembered the event. But the Count never commented on her licentious contemplations or the poignant silence between them. Instead he returned her attention to the present.

"As gratifying as our last encounter was, I fear you are still indebted to me," he reminded her, voice low, deep.

Elyse unconsciously shook her head as if to dispel the lust of her thoughts before raising her chin so she could better meet his gaze.

"What would you have me do?" she asked him obediently, the mode of her query causing his smirk to soften some.

There was something in the Count's eyes she didn't quite understand – a hesitance that had not been there before and it made her curious. Something had changed in him after all, but what it was she could not yet account for. He appeared to be suppressing some secret desire before appearing more resolute, more business and less pleasure.

"I need you to help me save someone's life."

Elyse's brows furrowed a little in confusion at his request, but when she noted the earnestness in his expression, she found herself nodding in acquiescence without even taking a moment to consider the consequences.

"I am at your service, my lord."

* * *

Elyse was alone in her bedroom a short time later, fully dressed as she searched for her warmest coat, the snow having begun to fall once more outside. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by this point as she reviewed the list of items she was to fetch from the guest room at the end of the hall which her fiancé was temporarily residing. How the Count knew Lord Ashton was even in possession of things like crushed cat's claw, essence of a Carpathian viola epipsila, and wolfsbane oil was beyond her, but she was granted little time to contemplate the coincidence further.

She only hoped she could slip into Gregory's room without rousing him.

Elyse wasn't exactly eager to explain to her future husband that she had gotten herself indebted to the prince of darkness and was about to leave the safety of her brother's home in the middle of the night, unchaperoned no less, to meet with a man she hardly knew.

Untucking her long braid from her coat before straightening the lapels and buttoning the front, Elyse quickly glanced out her window onto the street below to find that – as promised – the Count's carriage was outside the front of the house waiting to take her away. She slipped out of her room in silence, making a conscious effort to ensure her footfall remained soft as to not inform anyone of her departure.

Locating the guest bedroom in which Lord Ashton had taken up residence in was simple, but she was surprised to find the door locked – an odd occurrence, as he had never been in the habit of doing so before. But it was of little matter, she thought resolutely to herself as she removed a pair of hairpins from the pocket of her coat before crouching down so she could pick the lock – a skill the Baroness had actually taught her.

When the door was unlocked, she glanced both ways down the hall to make sure she was still alone before she entered her fiancé's chambers; the sound of his light snoring assured her that he was fast asleep. Without even looking at the bed, her eyes found the desk at the far end of the room closest to the window where he kept a collection of vials in a leather case. She opened it quietly and was pleased – and also astonished – to find that everything she needed was within, some of the contents containing peculiar labels…

White oak ash.

Silver nitrate.

Holy water.

Werewolf venom?

Elyse's brows furrowed for just a moment before she dismissed her curiosity, forcing herself to stay focused on her mission.

If someone's life was at risk, she didn't have time to suspect why her future husband was in possession of such an odd collection, nor could she question the Count's intention for borrowing the items. Determined to complete the task she had been charged with, she closed the case and prepared to leave when something on the floor caught her eye.

White stockings with lace on the ends just a few feet in front of her. And a little ways beyond that– a pair of linen pantalets, then a chemise… and a pair of male trousers?

She followed the trail of clothing with her eyes until at last her attention fell upon the bed where she discovered not only Lord Ashton, but also Baroness Hays, both asleep and seemingly nude beneath the covers.

Elyse became acutely aware of an unpleasant sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she took in the sight before her, realizing that Violet's secret gentleman lover was Lord Ashton. She clutched the case of vials tightly to her as if doing so would help to keep her steady and upright as she waited for the anticipated heartbreak to set in, but it never did.

 _But why?_ she wondered silently, trying to understand her own lack of a more visceral reaction. The answer was soon made clear. It was true, she had never loved Gregory; and her and Violet's friendship had never been quite the same since that night in Budapest. What was it the Count had said over a year ago that evening?

 _I know the likes of the right honorable Lady Violet, Baroness Hays may seem exciting, but she is a married woman of nine-and-twenty. Her marriage is in shambles and in order to feel better about herself, she derives pleasure from manipulating and ruining the lives of younger and prettier girls who are easy prey. You, Miss Dormer, are such easy prey. You are impressionable, naïve, and if you knew what was good for you, you would leave Lady Violet to her fate_.

Elyse felt an involuntary shudder move through her as she began to connect the dots, recognizing the signs of the illicit affair between the couple in the bed as the stark reality before her shed light on what she had been too blind and disinterested to see.

Count Dracula had been right.

He had barely been in the company of herself and the Baroness and with little effort he had seen what Elyse had been incapable of realizing until this very moment.

The woman she had believed to be her friend had never been thus. The betrayal wounded Elyse's pride more than it did her heart, but she found that she did not have it in her to hate the woman before her in entirety. Miss Dormer was wiser now, after all, than she had been a year ago, that night she had risked everything to save the Baroness from shame and scandal.

Well, after this, she would be certain to never do so again. Nor would she protect Lord Ashton from the consequences of his actions.

Elyse straightened in her resolution before taking her leave, not even bothering to close the door behind her as she made her way out into the hall. The young woman was quick to banish all thoughts of Ashton and Violet, forcing herself to focus entirely on the task ahead as she left the safety of her brother's house and entered the small carriage waiting for her.

The driver offered no greeting or words of pleasantry, for which she was grateful. Silence was what she truly desired. Assuming the man already knew her destination, she uttered not a word as the horses began to move forward at a brisk pace down the dark and empty London street.

She arrived some twenty minutes later at what appeared to be Highgate Cemetery in the north part of town. Sliding along the bench so she could sit closer to the window, she could see the imposing view of the West cemetery entrance, a solitary figure standing near the gate as if in anticipation for their arrival. The carriage never slowed its pace as the horses made their way through the arched passageway, taking a hard right before reaching the colonnade. The driver then took them down Cuttings Road, a path lined with large tombs that soon took them north to the Egyptian Gate toward the back of the park.

It was on the avenue where she was dropped off without a word of explanation from the driver who then left the young woman alone in the center of a sea of tombs blanketed in white. The air was freezing and Elyse found herself regretting not taking the time to put on more layers. Determined to warm herself up and hopefully find the Count in the process, she began to make her way down the snow laden lane toward the Circle of Lebanon some yards ahead. It was unnerving, traveling alone at night through the sinuous path, surrounded by large trees which obstructed her view of the sky above, leaving her feeling alone and isolated amongst the dead.

It proved difficult to ignore the morbid imaginings that entered her mind as she continued secluded in this funerary landscape. How strange it was that something so macabre could be simultaneously so evocative, so beautiful. She could not recall a time in recent memory when she had had a chance to enjoy the beauties of the night undisturbed and unaccompanied. Was this what it was like to be one of the undying? An eternity in this darkened splendor, surrounded by death yet untouched by it, immune, unfaltering?

As Elyse made her way down the steps into the circle of vaults that surrounded the enormous cedar on the hill between, she found herself pondering on the existence of one such creature of the night, what it must be like to live forever in one's youth, unchanged by the unforgiving hand of time. An infinity without the sun seemed a small price to pay for immortality, but perhaps that was naïve of her to think so, for clearly these beings were not truly immortal. She had learned over the last year that they could indeed be destroyed, often hunted down by secret societies that feared what they could not understand.

Having walked the full circle of catacombs once through without any sign of Count Dracula, Elyse prepared to go explore a different part of the cemetery, but before she could reach the steps, she heard her name on the wind from somewhere behind her.

She turned to find a dark figure in the shadows of one of the vaults, the entrance which she had been certain had been sealed up previously now appearing to be open.

Elyse recognized those ethereal blue eyes the moment she saw them.

"Count," she called out.

"Miss Dormer," he said in acknowledgement, extending his hand out to her in beckoning. "Come quickly. Time is of the essence."

The young woman obeyed his command without question, making her way to him as quickly as she was able. He led her out of the snow and into the dimly lit catacomb, sealing the gate behind them as she took in her surroundings. The space was small, crowded with a number of elaborately decorated tombs, all of which were sealed save one. A trifling collection of candles had been precariously placed on the edge of this particular sarcophagus and within Elyse noticed a boy of barely thirteen.

He appeared dead – or at the very least close to it – his flesh pale and eyes closed in unconsciousness. The only sign of life she could detect was the faint rattle of a shallow inhale the boy took every few seconds.

She was about to ask what had happened to him and why he was in this frigid place when she noticed the dark crimson pooling near the center of his chest. Elyse gasped, covering her mouth in a brief moment of shock before curiosity set in and she found she was unable to resist the temptation to investigate further.

Strangely fascinated by the carnage before her, Elyse momentarily forgot that she was not alone, leaving her ignorant of the way in which the Count was observing her from a distance. His expression was one of carefully guarded intrigue, as if her reaction to the scene before her satisfied him for some inexplicable reason.

"Who would commit such an act of violence on one so young?" she asked after several moments of undisturbed silence. "Surely this sort of punishment doesn't suit whatever crime he could have committed."

"His crime is his existence," Dracula explained, the disappointment in his tone not lost to her.

"I can't believe he's still breathing. A wound like that would have killed any man! It looks like he's been stabbed in the heart."

"Staked would be the more appropriate term."

"Staked? You mean to tell me this boy is a vampire?"

"Dhampir, actually. Despite the circumstances, however, this lad is very fortunate. His attacker missed his heart just barely," and Dracula took a place at her side, moving one of the candles closer so she could see that indeed, beyond the gore, the boy's heart continued to beat.

Elyse swallowed hard in an effort to bite back the nausea that swept over her and she looked away briefly to collect herself.

"Do you know who did this?"

"Your fiancé." Elyse looked up at him in surprise and he met her gaze with what appeared to be indifference. "I neglected to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials, by the way."

"No felicitations are necessary, I assure you," she answered with more passion than intended as she returned her attention to the unconscious boy before them. "I plan to break off our engagement in the morning."

"Not on account of the present circumstances, I hope?" he said, though she could have sworn there was a note of laughter in his tone.

"This only helps in strengthening my resolve. I know it is none of your concern, but when I went to fetch this from his chamber," and she placed the case of vials on the edge of the tomb, "I discovered the Baroness sharing his bed."

"Lady Violet?"

"The very one."

Dracula said nothing in response to this revelation and it made Elyse wonder – had he known? He didn't exactly seem surprised by the news. Perhaps he had anticipated a betrayal of this kind from the Baroness long before it had ever taken place?

But Elyse, unable to bear the tense silence now between them, continued.

"You warned me not to trust her that night, not to put myself at risk for her own safety, but I didn't listen. I suppose it could be worse. I suppose like this boy here, I too am more fortunate than I otherwise could be. The only thing that's been wounded is my pride. At least my heart is still safe," and she opened the case, removing the needed vials from within.

"I've found that agents of the Knights of the Holy Order tend to believe themselves not only above the law, but above usual conventions of morality. I am sorry for your sake that Lord Ashton could not see your worth. Perhaps if he had, he would have chosen to withstand the temptation the Baroness placed before him."

"They are both at fault, but it is of little matter," she insisted. "What do you need me to do to help save this boy?"

"I will need you to use the ingredients I listed out for you to create a serum which will help expedite his healing. Dhampirs are only half vampire – although their senses and natural abilities are amplified in comparison to the ordinary mortal, the younger ones tend to bleed out before they can heal, especially from wounds this deep."

"How did he become what he is?"

"Dhampirs are born, not made – a miracle against nature."

"But why would Gregory want to murder him if he is not even a vampire?"

"That is a story for another time. Suffice it to say, Lord Ashton is a member of a secret order of men and women hellbent on destroying myself and all those like me. They were nearly successful when last we met. This boy stands as evidence of their final efforts to finish the job. I'd create this serum myself, but the ingredients are difficult to come by and the need was urgent. And because Lord Ashton works for the Order, I knew he'd have what was required. Unfortunately," and he motioned to the vials in the case, "I cannot handle the containers that hold these materials without them being destroyed in my hands."

"Because of the crucifixes?"

"Precisely."

"Then I shall be your hands," she insisted bravely, removing her gloves. "Tell me what I must do."

Count Dracula watched with unwavering attention as Elyse followed every instruction he gave her to the letter. Her focus on the task at hand was steadfast as she mixed the variety of ingredients together in the cylindrical beaker, using the glass stem of the dropper to ensure everything was properly blended together. When he had come to ask for her help earlier in the evening, he had braced himself for the arduous task of keeping her calm and commanding obedience, but there was no such need. She had followed his every direction without question, only ever contradicting him when he had momentarily critiqued her own competency in a fit of frustration.

But Elyse sympathized with his aversion when it came to relying on others. Yet her censure had been rationally delivered, and so he had fallen silent, left to watch as she went to work.

When the concoction was complete, he went to offer further commands, but she seemed to be of the same mind as he, for without need of guidance, she filled the dropper with the appropriate amount of serum and then carefully emptied the contents into the dhampir boy's open chest as if instinct had told her to do as much.

As she observed the miraculous occurrence of the boy's flesh healing before her very eyes, the Count only continued to observe her with an unwavering intensity. Any private ponderings on his part were brought to a sudden halt, however, when the boy awoke with a start, startling Miss Dormer visibly as she jumped in astonishment.

The dhampir had reached up to grab hold of her arm, his eyes glowing with a hunger the Count recognized at once. The boy needed to feed and Elyse, with her warm and fragrant flesh was the perfect snack. In truth, the Count had intended on allowing the boy to feed from the Viscount's youngest daughter - perhaps her passing would provide the ample enough warning against the Holy Order and their efforts to eradicate him. But instead of abandoning this innocent lamb to the slaughter, he found himself intervening on her behalf as if it were instinctual.

With a movement barely discernible to the mortal eye, he snatched the boy's wrist, his powerful grip forcing the dhampir to release the young woman so she could step back and create some distance between herself and the hissing fiend still lying in the sarcophagus.

" _Be still, child,_ " the Count consoled in his native tongue, his voice low and rich like velvet as he allowed his gaze to linger on Miss Dormer for a few seconds longer before diverting his attention to his charge. " _She is not for eating_."

"But, master," the boy whimpered in English. "She smells so good… let me taste her…" and he sat up as if he intended to leap in her direction, but Dracula held him steadfast.

" _No,_ " he commanded harshly, eyes glowing for just a moment and Elyse watched as the tension in the young dhampir's frame softened in response. "She is forbidden."

"But I'm so hungry," the boy insisted.

Dracula placed his forearm in front of the dhampir's face in response.

"Then feed," he said.

Elyse watched with unbroken concentration as the boy pushed the Count's sleeve up to his elbow before biting down into his wrist greedily. The sight immediately brought to mind the scene she had happened upon that night in Budapest when she and the Count had discovered Violet being fed on by the villainous Niklaus. Before, the mere thought of a person consuming on the blood of another disgusted her, but to see it now for herself… it was frightening, unsettling even, but also deeply sensual.

The slurping and sighs of contentment aroused her in an unexpected way and soon she found that her eyes had left the boy and were now fixed on the Count. The way he was looking at her seemed to banish the chill that had previously settled in her bones. Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes quickly fell away in maiden embarrassment. In a desperate effort to at least give off the appearance of composure, she began to busy herself with the used vials from Lord Ashton's case of peculiarities as the dhampir child finished.

When Dracula had to forcefully remove the boy's mouth from his arm, the child pouted in protest as he climbed out of the coffin. There seemed to be a silent conversation of looks passing between master and underling, for when the boy made a move toward Elyse, the Count growled in warning.

"I said her blood is forbidden," he reminded the dhampir. "You will not disobey me again or there will be consequences."

The boy whined his disappointment but relented, albeit begrudgingly. With a silent command from the Count and a final warning look, the dhampir took the hint and soon disappeared into the night without even offering a word of gratitude for all that had been done to save his life.

When they were at last alone once more, Elyse had finished cleaning up and she found that her eyes seemed to instinctually return to the man before her. He remained upright as if determined to give off the impression that he was perfectly well, but the way he leaned against the tomb spoke volumes.

"Your arm," she began, noting the vicious looking gash in his wrist.

Dracula looked down at the wound with vague interest.

"It will heal in a moment."

"But he took so much of you," she pointed out.

"I've endured worse."

She paused before daring to ask –

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

The Count smiled.

"My dear, you have done more for me in a trifling half-hour than I could have ever expected of you. As far as I'm concerned, you have fulfilled your end of our bargain. There is no need for you to feel obligated to linger. Go… the carriage should be waiting to take you home."

Dracula half expected her to submit to his will as she had done a number of times already this evening, but he was pleasantly surprised when she placed the case of vials down on the ground before undoing the buttons of her coat. With noted curiosity, he watched as the heavy wool garment proceeded to slide off her shoulders and down her arms, pooling on the cold stone floor beneath her. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest – not out of fear, but out of something that sounded a great deal like anticipation.

Elyse took a step forward.

"I don't know much about vampires," she admitted, cautiously moving toward him as she began to roll up the left sleeve of her dress. "But I know that they need blood to survive. The loss of your own has affected you – even I can see that, try as you might to conceal it from me. Please," and she raised her wrist toward him in offering. "Let me help you as you once helped me. No further debts, no strings. Take my blood as final payment for saving my life that night when you could have left me at the mercy of Lucas. I will consider my debt to you repaid."

Count Dracula's demeanor proved indecipherable. It was impossible for her to even guess his thoughts at that moment. But his gaze remained intense, dominating, and yet she never shrank as she stood before him.

"Do not presume to know what it is I need, Miss Dormer," he stated evenly, but she took his comment for the deflection that it was and with a boldness she hadn't known was in her until that moment, she reached for his hand and positioned it between them so she could place the wrist of her left hand in his palm.

His brow rose in evident surprise. He struggled to remain aloof, but not even he could resist the faint smirk that was now tugging at the corner of this lips.

"Still eager to offer yourself to a stranger?" he asked and she smiled, blushing a little as she recognized the words he had spoken to her that night of the masquerade ball.

Looking up, she held his gaze with a noted archness.

"I am feeling uncharacteristically generous," she replied, echoing his words from that fateful evening and the way he smiled openly now made her feel brave. "After all, I think after the things we've shared, we have passed into the realm of acquaintances at least. Wouldn't you agree?"

The amusement in his eyes darkened a little and it made a small shiver run down her spine.

"Indeed. Very well, I will accept your offer. But I will not feed from your wrist," and he released her hand. "Free your throat."

Elyse hesitated for just a moment before reaching up for the small buttons that ran along the front of the high collar of her dress. She fumbled with the first two but managed to steady her nerves as she continued along the way, stopping at the button that rested in the center of the visible dip between her neck and collarbone. Pausing to see if that was far enough, her heart skipped a beat when he gave no sign of approval. Swallowing hard, she continued slowly, unfastening the next button, then the one below that until just a hint of cleavage could be seen.

The young woman stopped once more, waiting for some indication that she had gone far enough, but he offered her no such thing. His eyes had fallen from her face to instead study the movement of her hands, and with the revelation of a shadowed line between the tops of her breasts, his irises had begun to glow brilliantly in the darkness. The faint light of the candles on the tomb beside them continued to cast dark and sensuous shadows over the angular parts of his face.

The way he openly scrutinized her person made her flush in embarrassment, but her hands had a mind of their own. Her fingers undid one last button and then her lungs seized, holding her breath as she watched his tongue unconsciously trace the curve of his lower lip. The beat of her heart quickened and her skin tingled from the crown of her head to secret places untouched. He offered a scarcely noticeable nod as a sign that that was far enough and she allowed her hands to fall to her sides, her own eyes transfixed on the changing expressions of his face.

He had yet to return his gaze to her own, and when she realized that he must have been undressing her in his mind, Elyse's face heated. At last he moved, two hands reaching up to the now parted portion of her dress and with great care he opened the garment more fully, revealing the pale flesh of her chest, neck, and part of her shoulders to the freezing air. His skin never touched hers, something Elyse secretly mourned for reasons she couldn't quite fathom, but then his eyes finally met hers again and she nearly swooned.

He never said a word, but his gaze communicated everything she needed to know. His approval of her proved profound and when he firmly gripped her upper arms so he could pull her closer, Elyse grew faint.

"Your heart is racing," he stated softly.

"I'm nervous," she admitted.

"Don't be," and he gently cradled the back of her skull as his other hand slid over her bared shoulder, pushing the rebellious strands of hair that had escaped her braid away from her neck as he tilted her head to one side.

His skin was cool to the touch, and with a soft caress he allowed his hand to glide down the side of her neck and onward, his palm gently teasing away the material of her dress so he could free more of that unblemished skin.

Dracula leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips against her ear and she felt a jolt strike through her body at the contact, a tremor that had her leaning into him.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he whispered into her hair before placing a breathless kiss to her temple.

"Yes," was all she could manage to say, but her consent was all he wanted. There was no need for further dialogue.

Elyse's brain grew dizzied and feverish as he placed open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat, tracing her jugular vein with the tip of his tongue.

"Will it hurt?" she managed to ask him when she felt the dull rake of his teeth lightly brush against the side of her neck and she became aware of the way in which his lips curved against her skin in reply.

"Only for a moment," he promised, and then without warning he bit her.

* * *

Elyse awoke to the sound of shrieking down the hall just before dawn that morning. It took her a moment to become fully cognizant of the cause for the ruckus, for her mind and body were feeling particularly sluggish as she rolled over to bury her head beneath the covers. She could scarcely remember how she had gotten home and dressed in her nightclothes in the first place, but she hardly cared. It was too early for this kind of noise and she mumbled an oath under her breath as she struggled to block out the conversation happening at the other end of the house.

"Mr. Dormer! Mr. Dormer!" Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper, could be heard shouting from the end of the hall. "Oh my god, have you two no shame? Mr. Dormer! Come at once!"

"Jennings, you old hag, shut up!" Violet hissed. "Gregory! Gregory wake up! Why in God's name is your door opened? I thought you locked it!"

"You despicable harlot! After everything Lady Elyse has done for you! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Mr. Dormer! Mr. Dormer!"

"Mrs. Jennings, it's barely seven. What on earth is all this commotion about?" Elyse could hear her sister-in-law, Moira, calling out sleepily as she made her way down the hall.

Her arrival upon the scene of the crime, however, proved loud enough to wake the dead and though someone had slammed Lord Ashton's bedroom door shut, the shouting continued within the chamber, though it was muted now.

Elyse, gradually recalling the events of last night, relented a sigh of defeat as she acknowledged that there would be no more sleep for her this morning – as much as she desired it. Her engagement to Lord Ashton was officially over – although thank heavens, she mused silently, because the last thing she wanted to do today was deal with more tedious wedding preparations.

She sat up slowly, trying to tune her ears to the sound of her sister-in-law's thorough chastening as she rubbed the dull ache from the side of her mostly healed neck. Elyse glanced down to see that she had indeed been put back into her night clothes, though the front of her shift had come untied in the night, leaving her dangerously indecent. As she tidied herself, she struggled to recall how she had gotten home in the first place after spending a good forty-five minutes freezing her backside off in Highgate cemetery just hours ago; but then she noticed a letter on her bedside table.

Her name was scrawled across the front in a familiar hand and like a warm wave of a tropical sea, the memories came flooding back –

Dracula had fed from her and she had almost fainted in his arms. He had carried her home – though when she tried to recall the trip itself, she found she could not – but he had carried her back into the house through the front door and up the stairs himself. The undressing and dressing bits were a blur, but he had not taken advantage of her in her weakened state – she was at least certain of that. And before she could thank him or bid him goodnight, she had surrendered to unconsciousness.

Elyse reached for the letter and quickly unfolded it, eyes pouring over the handsome script as her sister-in-law's muffled shouting fell on deaf ears.

_Miss Dormer,_

_I fear that in my moment of selfishness, I neglected to thank you properly for your generosity this evening. I mean to rectify this at once and I pray you will forgive me for not doing so in person. You were positively indispensable and I am grateful that I was able to rely upon you._

_You are an inimitable young woman with an open mindedness that I find utterly refreshing; and it is a pity that Lord Ashton has proven incapable of recognizing the greatness within you._

_Seeing as how all obligation between us has now been dissolved, I recognize that I have no right to ask more of you than I already have, but if you have no objections, I would wish to see more of you in the near future – perhaps in a public setting for the sake of your reputation. But if you wish to be left in peace now that your debt has been paid, I will of course respect your wishes._

_If your desires mirror my own, however, and should you want to continue our correspondence – be it by the pen or in person – a word is all I require. Please send your reply in the pre-addressed envelope I have provided on your desk. I eagerly await your response._

_Until then, I remain your obedient servant,_

_V.D._

"This is intolerable. I demand you leave this house at once or I shall call the authorities to have you arrested for trespassing," Elyse's sister-in-law shouted as she exited from Lord Ashton's bedchambers. "Christopher will hear of this!"

"Moira, if you would just listen to me!" she could hear Violet protesting, the voices nearing her own door. "He overpowered me! This is not my fault!"

"Oh please! Don't insult me with your lies. I always knew you were never good enough to by my sister-in-law's companion. This proves it! You are nothing more than a mercenary trollop, madam, and I will not listen to your excuses for a moment longer! Now gather your belongings and get out of my house or I will throw you out as you are!"

"Violet, just do as she says," Gregory called from down the hall.

"No! This is an outrage!"

Elyse, who had just finished fetching a piece of paper to write her response to the Count, quickly grew impatient with the disputations outside her door. Throwing on a robe so she could make herself more presentable, she then stepped out into the hall abruptly to the astonishment of all and was granted for her presence a tense silence that fell over the company.

With little ceremony, she removed her engagement ring from her finger and tossed it onto the floor in her ex-fiancé's direction, a single look from her being all he needed to know that their engagement was officially at an end and he was no longer welcome. When Lord Ashton had reentered his room to gather his things, shutting the door behind him, Elyse turned to the Baroness.

The redhead opened her mouth to offer an explanation, but Elyse interjected before she could get a word in.

"It's over, Violet," she announced calmly. "I am done saving you. I don't want your excuses and I am tired of constantly putting my person and reputation in the path of danger for the sake of your whims. If you leave my brother's house this instant, I give you my word that not a single malicious utterance will ever leave my lips where you are concerned. But understand me, Baroness, I don't ever want to see you again."

Violet nodded in understanding, tears tumbling down her cheeks as she turned to depart. When she had disappeared down the hall, entering Lord Ashton's room to gather the rest of her garments, Moira turned to the young woman at her side with a look of concern.

"Elyse, darling…" she began, but Elyse interrupted her with the raising of her hand.

"I'm fine, Moira. I promise."

"But…"

"Please inform Mrs. Jennings that I will be taking breakfast in my room."

"Of course, dear."

"And make sure Christopher doesn't hear of this whole fiasco until both Lord Ashton and Baroness Hays are off the premises."

"If you insist."

"I do. And Moira? Could you do something for me?" she called as she reentered her bedroom to scribble the word "yes" down on a piece of paper.

"Anything, Elyse. I'll send the cancellation notices for the wedding out today."

"Thank you. But before you do that, would you please give this letter to Andrews to post as soon as possible?" and she tucked her reply to the Count into the pre-addressed envelope he had left for her, sealing it as her sister-in-law approached.

"Yes, I'll have Jennings give it to him. But what is this?"

"With any luck… a new beginning."


	3. Submission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work also being posted on FFN under the pseud "Remember" and Wattpad under the pseud "MadameRemember". All rights reserved.

"I asked him for it. For the blood, for the rust, for the  _sin_. I didn't want the pearls other girls talked about, or the fine marble of palaces, or even the roses in the mouth of servants. I wanted pomegranates – I wanted darkness, I wanted him."  
– Daniella Michallen,  _Persephone Speaks_

 

_February 1890  
_ _London_

It had been three days since Elyse had last seen Count Dracula – three agonizing days of an unrequited anticipation, three sweltering nights of inexplicable longing and fevered dreams. It took every ounce of self-restraint she possessed to keep her composure, to appear sedate and unaffected. She didn't wish to cause her nearest relations any alarm, but the task had grown more difficult. Since her return from Highgate and all that had transpired therewith, something had altered in Elyse – something as of yet indefinable.

In the daylight, she felt feeble, lethargic, yet always on edge.

In the night, however, after her brother, sister-in-law, and little nieces and nephews had gone to bed, she would toss and turn for hours, mind racing whenever she wasn't actually sleeping, the winter air leaving her room with a chill she seemed incapable of feeling. And when she did succumb to slumber, she dreamt of flesh, of pleasure, of blood.

It should have frightened her, should have sent a shudder of trepidation down to the very depths of her soul – but nothing could subdue the bourgeoning need in her breast.

She needed to see him again, needed his eyes on her, needed the touch of his hand, the prick of fangs on her throat.

But he had provided her with no indication of when their next meeting would take place, and as she did not wish to appear impertinent, she waited.

Penitently.

Patiently.

Like a small child forced to linger in suspended anticipation for a promised treat: docile and controlled on the outside, but raging with impatience just beneath the surface.

It was nearly dusk now and the young woman was situated prettily on a seat by the window, her distracted gaze lingering on the busy hustle and bustle of the street outside. The melodic hum of the soft-spoken conversation between her brother and sister-in-law the only thing keeping her tethered to the present.

"She just hasn't been herself the last few days," Moira whispered to her husband, unaware that the sedate blonde seated across the room could indeed hear her.

"Well, can you blame her? That rake and her traitorous friend were discovered in bed together. Under our roof, no less!" Christopher answered, his voice a low and disapproving rumble that Elyse knew well. "I just wish they hadn't been turned from the house before I awoke. I would have liked to…"

"There's no use fantasizing about violence. It solves nothing."

"Perhaps. But it would certainly make me feel better than having him jilt my baby sister and escape completely unscathed."

"I know, darling. But Elyse was adamant on keeping this quiet. It's been hard enough making sure the servants stay hushed up."

"Have you sent out the notices rescinding the wedding invitations?"

"Yes. I sent the last batch out with the post this afternoon. Have you written your father to tell him the news?"

"Not yet… but I must. And soon."

Elyse could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"When does he return from his travels?" Moira inquired after a moment of consolatory silence.

"A fortnight from now."

"Perhaps we could all take a trip to the country? She needs to get out of London, Christopher – I think the change of scene would do her a world of good."

"We can't, Moira – you know my business requires me to stay here in town, and I don't feel comfortable with you taking the children up there at this time of year. Not to that drafty old house. The last thing I need is for any of you becoming ill because of exposure…"

"I could always go alone," Elyse said at last, revealing that she had indeed been eavesdropping. She turned her head slowly to look over at the pair seated close to the fire, her brother's gaze falling down to the carpet in shame while her sister-in-law blushed in embarrassment. "I think I would like to return home."

"Elyse, darling…" Moira began, but the young woman rose, lifting her hand gently in a request for silence.

"You are right that I am in need of a change of scenery. London has never held much charm for me – especially now, and I wouldn't be entirely alone. Father's estate remains staffed even in his absence, and if I grow too lonesome, I could always call upon widow Standen. She could probably use the company and it's been too long since I've called upon her."

Christopher scoffed a little at that, earning a narrowed look from his sister.

"I don't care what Father says. I never liked the idea of you maintaining an acquaintance with that recluse."

"She lost her husband and only child on the same day. Have some empathy," Elyse chided.

Before the tension between the siblings could increase, Moira interjected.

"But to travel alone, without a companion… And after your disappointment, I'm not entirely certain that isolating yourself is the best course of…"

"It's only two weeks. Not forever," Elyse maintained, making a point to keep her tone light and as inconspicuous as possible. "Besides, I'm twenty-two… and with no prospects and no real friends to miss me, I don't see why taking a break from society would be so terrible. Anyway, I'm tired of being the subject of the gossip of servants. I'd much rather remove myself from the situation entirely until Father returns home."

The couple exchanged a series of glances as Elyse looked on expectantly.

She could live with Lord Ashton's infidelity just fine, but it was the silence of the Count she could no longer endure. Perhaps disappearing without providing him notice would prove to the man that she wasn't the sort of woman to just wait around. If he wanted her, he could pursue her. And if he didn't, then perhaps she was better off after all…

But the mere thought of Dracula had her heart racing suddenly.

_Where was he?_

Why hadn't he called?

She could only content herself with her wicked nocturnal fantasies for so long. For some inexplicable reason she ached for his presence and to be denied it after the promise of more was a cruelty she wasn't sure she could bear for much longer. To distract herself, Elyse began to smooth the invisible creases from her lavender dress.

"I suppose I don't see the harm in it," her brother said at last, ignoring the disapproving look his wife was now sending him. "It's only a fortnight. And you've always been very good at entertaining yourself."

Elyse smiled softly.

"When would you like to leave?" he continued just as the dinner bell rang.

"Tomorrow if possible."

"Tomorrow?" Moira exclaimed. "But that's no time at all! Are you truly so eager to leave us?"

"I'm eager to leave London, ma'am," the young woman answered evenly. "This has nothing to do with you. You and my brother have been the very models of kindness and hospitality, allowing me to stay with you while my father is away. But I'm ready to go home. In truth, I think I've been ready for a while now. Long before this business with Lord Ashton ever took place..."

Somewhat mollified, but by no means at peace with the decision, Moira stood, making only a half-hearted attempt to hide her disappointment.

"Well, I suppose we could set you off tomorrow and then send the rest of your things in the next day or two."

Elyse reached out for her sister-in-law's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I would be most grateful."

With the decision made, dinner was spent discussing the logistics. Finding herself without much of an appetite, Elyse excused herself the moment dessert was finished, eager to start packing before bed.

One of the maids was called in to assist, and while Elyse appreciated the distraction this new venture provided her with, when the company was gone and the residents of the Dormer household turned in for the evening, the young woman found herself alone once more with her thoughts. The glow of the hearth and a solitary candle by her bed were the only sources of light that remained as a familiar anxiety started to tighten in her chest.

It was not a wholly unpleasant feeling, this anticipation she was now experiencing, but given the uneventfulness of the last three evenings, it wasn't hard to guess that like all of those, tonight would end in a similar disappointment.

Already dressed for bed, Elyse sat quietly in a chair by the fire, knees tucked close to her chest as she fiddled idly with the end of the tie at the front of her nightgown. She would occasionally trace her finger over the two now barely discernable marks that had been left on the side of her throat, brow furrowed just slightly in a look of deliberation. Had it not been for the faint scars on her skin – the only physical evidence that what had happened in Highgate Cemetery three days ago had happened at all – she would have begun to doubt her senses.

But it  _had_  happened, and while she was loathed to admit it, she could not deny that the presence and influence of Count Dracula had altered her in some way – though this time around had proven far less subtle than when their paths had first crossed over a year ago.

Was it the bite, the consumption of her blood, or was it something far more insidious?

She hardly knew; and what secretly alarmed her was the growing part of her that had become increasingly apathetic to the consequences of their interactions.

Those in her acquaintance had always considered Elyse Dormer to be a good sort of person – empathetic, forbearing, perhaps a little headstrong, but a respectable, Christian girl. Yet, her encounters with the vampire had awoken something in her, an inner darkness she couldn't quite understand, but was now increasingly desperate to seize. Why else would she have put herself at the mercy of this man – not once, nor even twice, but  _three times_  now by agreeing to continue the acquaintance even after her debt had been fulfilled?

Perhaps he really was the son of the devil, some clever, unassuming demon come to seduce away her soul or slowly drive her to hysteria and madness. She mused silently to herself, knowing this thought should have troubled her – even Violet had longed to move past their encounter with the undead. But instead of being filled with fear or dread, the thought of being pursued by this handsome predator left Elyse excited, as if the prospects appealed to that quiet, unseen shadow hidden deep within the recesses of her soul.

She silently acknowledged in that moment that her past actions and the feelings and sensations she was experiencing now as consequence – though suspect by society's standards – made her feel just a little wicked.

And oh, how she secretly enjoyed the feeling!

A faint but mischievous smile tugged the corners of her lips as she settled a bit more into the plush back of the chair, curling the tie of the front of her nightgown around her finger.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Elyse startled at the sound of the familiar voice coming from behind her. Standing suddenly, she whirled around to find none other than the Count with his back to the window, most of his visage shrouded in darkness. She exhaled in relief at the sight of him, hand still resting over her heart where she could feel it beating wildly against her chest.

"Oh Count! It's just you," she called out, lowering her voice. A mélange of conflicting emotions passed through her all at once at the sight of him – surprise, elation, desire, confusion… She opted for the latter of the bunch, her brow furrowing a little as she studied him. "How did you get in?"

"The window."

"But we're three stories up! And I don't recall ever feeling a draft..."

"And yet, that is the way I entered," he stated as if it were merely a fact.

The man's face was unreadable, stoic, but his eyes were as intense as ever, attentive and sharp like a hawk. She offered him no reply, immediately finding herself drawn to his gaze.

"I see you've been busy packing," he pointed out, momentarily breaking eye contact as he approached slowly. He freed himself from his heavy cloak in a single movement, draping it over the edge of her bed, feigning ignorance to the rapid thumping of her heart. "Might I ask where you're going?"

"To my father's house in Kent… I've grown weary of London."

"That is a pity. And is your family to join you?"

"No. My brother has work here in town and he doesn't want my sister-in-law to…"

All words left her the moment his gloved hand reached out to touch her cheek. The smooth caress of leather sent a delightful shiver down her spine as a shuddering breath escaped her. In an instant, she felt her eyes grow heavy-lidded, the intensity of his gaze leaving her spellbound.

"So you're to leave me, then?" he asked, thumb brushing over her lips, his current expression only thinly veiling an unspoken longing.

"You didn't call for three days," she reminded him with noted disappointment, attention unflinching as she looked up at him, even when he chuckled at her remark.

"You never went out," he countered, the cheek in his words not lost to her.

"I just broke off an engagement. The rules of decorum suggest…"

"You and I both know that you care very little for the conventions of society," he said, his fingers moving to caress the side of her neck, unable to mask the hunger in his eyes now. "That's something I've admired about you from the start – your self-assuredness, your poise in the face of danger." Those fingers were now tracing her collarbone and Elyse felt her breasts grow heavy, nipples hardening from the cold or from arousal, she hardly knew, nor did she care.

"Am I in danger, Count?"

The question was uttered with a breathless sensuality and in that moment, Elyse hardly recognized herself.

Was she  _flirting_ with this man – this preternatural, undying creature?

He smirked.

"Oh,  _very much so_ ," he answered, his voice low and teasing, fingers gently gliding up her neck so he could slide his thumb over her lips again. "And yet there you stand, unyielding and without an ounce of prejudice in you. Only  _anticipation_ …" Dracula leaned in a little and for a moment, Elyse was certain he would kiss her, but his lips never touched hers. All she felt was the caress of the tip of his nose against her cheek and the movement of air as he inhaled quiet and deep, breathing her in. "Anticipation… and lust. One would never know just looking at you how dark and wicked your thoughts are…"

A soft, indistinguishable noise left her as another shiver ran down her spine. He brought his other hand to rest on her hip. She longed for more than these light touches of his, but too scared to voice her own desires, she opted for an attempt at casual conversation instead.

"Why are you here, Count Dracula?"

His chuckle at her refusal to acknowledge his words was deep and virtually soundless as he cradled the side of her face in his palm, continuing to hold her gaze.

"Isn't it obvious?" he replied. "I am here for  _you_ , Elyse. I've heard your soul call out for me these last three nights, have sensed the beckoning of your flesh, the longing in your blood."

"I never…" she began to deny, but he hushed her with a single digit as his irises began to glow.

"Don't deny it," he commanded her softly. "I know what lurks in your lusting heart."

She felt his arm coil slowly around the small of her back until he was holding her flush against him, their eyes locked, and the sensuous web he was weaving grew all the more intricate. But her will was still her own – she could sense this, and yet she didn't have it in her to pull away. In fact, without even meaning to, she brought her hands up to rest on his chest.

"So what happens now?" she whispered, eyes flittering to his mouth with a growing hunger. He must have noticed, for he lightly moistened his lips with his tongue and the young woman felt herself grow hot at the sight… or maybe it was the fire at her back?

"That is entirely up to you," he explained, and then he leaned forward only part of the way.

He waited there, patiently, attention fixed as he took in every nuanced and subtle shift in her expression, the consideration in her eyes, the desire… but she never moved. It wasn't fear, however, or even insecurity, that kept her rooted to the spot.

It was a spark of defiance and it made something iniquitous and divine appear somewhere behind the eyes, as though her resiliency pleased him.

Impressed by her restraint, he opted to close the space himself. His lips were soft, but firm against her mouth. She was immediately receptive; even when his tongue touched hers, not once did she ever shrink. Elyse held tighter to him, opening up to him with a beckoning warmth he couldn't resist.

Her hands eventually curled against his ribs before moving to smooth over muscles of his back while his threaded into her hair, angling her head until they best fit. Teeth scraped against her lightly before slowly descending to her neck and she felt her heart skip a beat.

She raised herself onto the balls of her feet to help ease the distance, pressing and rubbing herself against him like a feline eager to be touched. He took her enthusiasm as consent and made a move to bite her when the light from the hall suddenly flooded her room, the door opening.

Elyse gasped in surprise, turning around to find her brother, Christopher, opening the door after a barely discernable knock.

"Elyse? What are you still doing up? I thought you went to bed hours ago?" he called, bringing the lamp in his hand forward to better illuminate her room.

She braced herself for some comment of outrage at the sign of her entertaining an unknown man in her private chambers during the dead of night, but the reaction never came. It was only when she turned in the direction where the Count had been standing just seconds ago that she discovered he had vanished.

All that remained was an inexplicable mist outside her window that had not been there before.

"Elle? Are you all right?" Christopher asked when she didn't reply.

Utterly bewildered, Elyse shook her head as if trying to shake off the fog in her brain before turning to her brother.

"Yes," she said at last, voice a little higher pitched than intended as she rubbed the phantom tingle from the side of her neck where the vampire's lips had been. "I'm all right. Was just feeling a little restless."

"Well, if you want to make good time tomorrow, you'll need an early start," he insisted with the gentle chiding befitting of an elder brother. He entered the room to pull the drapes of her window shut. "Come on – into bed with you."

* * *

The Count never did return to Elyse's room that evening after her brother had departed. She lingered in the darkness for some indiscernible amount of time, eyes transfixed on the window – as if doing so would somehow will him to reappear.

Her lips pulsated from their kiss, her body aching in the absence of his touch.

Eventually, she did drift off into an uneasy sleep, but the wanton dreams of unfilled longing were there to greet her, visions of flesh and blood and mist.

But were these apparitions merely the manifestation of a secret fantasy, the product of a lifetime of repression, or were they omens of things to be?

She didn't know.

What she did know was that when she climbed into her brother's carriage the following morning, not once did she ever feel alone. The dense fog that had settled over London seemed to follow her all the way into Kent. There was a prick of awareness always on the back of her neck, as if she could feel him, sense him, the prince of darkness himself, watching her from some unseen place like a predator… lying in wait.


	4. Dominance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work also being posted on FFN under the pseud "Remember" and Wattpad under the pseud "MadameRemember". All rights reserved.
> 
> Please note: the rating has gone up thanks to some citrus-flavored goodness sprinkled throughout the chapter. Nothing *too* gratuitous, but here's your warning nonetheless. ENJOY!

"' _Aren't you afraid of my darkness, my dear?'_  Hades asked with mischief in his eyes.  _'No,'_  Persephone replied,  _'You haven't even seen mine yet.'_ "  
\- kfg

 

 _Late Afternoon  
_ _Dormer Estate, Kent, England_

The scent of rain and damp pine hung heavy in the air and Elyse breathed it in deep as she stepped out of the carriage, taking in the view of her childhood home.

Situated on the northern bank of a river, Dormer House stood looking across a number of low hills. The residence, which had been in the family for generations, was set in expansive parkland, backed by wooded, rocky knolls rising to heather-covered moorland which would stretch on for several miles before hitting the coast. Elyse had always been fond of her father's estate, with its secluded gardens and picturesque woods, all nestled away in some lush, green pocket of forgotten English countryside.

But home felt different to her now, its dramatic façade and embellishments not as warm or inviting as they had once been. Even as she stepped across the threshold, she found herself craving to be outside again, as if something beyond these familiar walls had tied a string to her wrist, taken to gently pulling.

As the servants unpacked her things, Elyse glanced out the nearest window, beyond the vast stretch of frozen gardens to the woods beyond. The mist that had followed her all the way from London had since settled along the fringes of the estate, appearing to surround the entire perimeter, but never encroaching forward, as if it were waiting, beckoning her to venture forth into the twilight to accompany it the rest of the way.

Unable to resist its summons, or to even consider the situation more rationally, Elyse found herself immediately calling for a horse to be brought. As if her mind had been possessed by a single thought, to lose herself in that gray mist, she promptly ignored the gentle insistence of the elderly housekeeper as she changed into her riding habit, declining the offer of tea and the promise of a hot dinner. The young woman would bear no refutation. She didn't care if the sun was due to set within the hour or that she had spent the better part of her day confined to a carriage. Her mind was riddled with an almost crippling blend of anxiety and anticipation.

Surely the fresh air and exercise would calm her restless nerves.

She hardly believed the rationalization as it flitted across her brain and passed her lips, but she also never bothered to question its origin.

She was consumed by a solitary need – she had to be outside.

Once changed, and with no person of authority to stop her, she made her way back out to the front of the house where a servant waited with her black mare, the steed saddled and ready to go. She mounted with ease and then dug her heels into the animal's side, rearing it forward and out of the driveway without a word of explanation, or any indication of when she would return.

The cold wind whipped against her flushing cheeks as she lightly brought down the end of her riding crop onto the rear of the beast's flesh, spurring it from a canter to a full gallop. The increase in speed sent her heart to race wildly in her chest, some primal instinct submitting that  _he_ was somehow associated with that mist. The notion – though utterly preposterous to a sensible mind – thrilled her to her very core, and with a flick of her wrist, she brought the riding crop down once more, steering her mare directly into the woods.

Even as the sun began to set behind them, the thoroughbred obeyed, albeit with a snort of protestation, racing straight for the dark shade of the trees until they were completely enveloped in shadow and mist.

Elyse weaved the animal through the gloomy labyrinth with expertise and it brought a hint of a smile up to her eyes, her expression becoming more triumphant.

Count Dracula's presence in her life may have left her hazy and overwrought with uncharacteristic feelings and impulses, but she was still strong and clever enough on her own merit to navigate through the wilderness of her desires. She was still her own master, and her riding through her father's land practically blind from the fog was proof enough.

But the mental acknowledgment of the son of the devil's name seemed to elicit something dark and insidious inside of her; a coiling, aching want that tightened in her womb. With each gallop of her horse, she was brought down onto the saddle and the friction against her sex began to rouse something within her – something sinful and indecent.

Without even meaning to conjure up the images, her mind turned to her dreams of him from the night previous – a mist-covered lawn in the dead of night with only the crescent moon to light the way; a shadow lurking in the distance, advancing slowly.

His eyes had been like two glowing orbs, bluer than the sky in summer, and as brilliant as a flash of lightning in a storm. The weight of his aura, that dark, indefinable magic that emanated from his very person in powerful, seducing waves had been almost tangible in the dream, and just a single look had been enough to undo her entirely.

Elyse brought the riding crop down again, harder this time.

She needed to go faster.

But with the increase in speed came another surge of adrenaline and the friction at the apex of her thighs worsened; a twisted, delicious agony budding and building inside of her as her recollections continued.

He had touched her in the dream – not the chaste caress of fingers against her cheek or throat, but a stroke full of purpose; the magnetic pull that stemmed from his being slowly pulling her under – the gentle temptation of a whisper, a coaxing breath against her cheek.

The tension continued to build between her tightly clenched thighs as she rode faster, picturing him in her mind's eye, those delightful fingers of his tracing a path from her throat to her bosom… down, down, down...

She could almost taste the wickedness in his smile as he had touched her then, a firm and bold pressure pressed between her legs and up against her womanhood.

_And then those fingers started to move…_

Elyse let out a cry as the coiling tension in her sex reached new heights and she pulled on the reins of her steed, bringing it to a sudden and abrupt halt. The lack of movement left the pressure between her thighs to linger unsatisfied and she clenched her eyes shut as she desperately sought to regain control over her faculties, lips pressed tight together. She exhaled slowly, with deliberation as an unseemly four-letter Anglo-Saxon word slipped past her lips.

The man was nowhere near her, and yet how much power he seemed to have over her already – just the suggestion of him nearly unraveled her sense of decorum, her dignity.

It should have terrified her, should have repulsed her – and  _yet_.

She could not shake this fiendish curiosity, the bourgeoning lust in her heart.

Since her very first encounter with the king of the undying, Elyse had become unconsciously aware of something awakening within her, something wicked and dark buried deep within the recesses of her soul that had bloomed exponentially in the last few days since the incident at Highgate.

The night he had tasted her blood.

There was some private admission that  _perhaps_ Dracula held some direct influence over her after all, but Elyse Dormer refused to consider herself as some kind of senseless damsel.

She breathed in deep of the cold forest air, eyes lively as they took in her surroundings. She could sense him in these woods – unable to explain how she knew or why, but some part of her was conscious of his nearness, his attention on her as if he was somewhere in the mist, watching. The back of her neck prickled in awareness.

Elyse rolled her eyes at the suggestion the moment it skidded across her brain. With a huff of pure stubbornness she dug her heels into the side of her horse, urging it forward again, this time at a steady trot as reason returned to her. It was best to head home, she decided.

Her journey back was measured, unhurried as her sharp gaze scanned the dim forest surrounding her, the sky above gradually darkening.

He felt so close, and yet he couldn't  _really_  be here… could he?

Determined not to appear  _too_ hopeful, she lifted her chin as she lightly rapped the riding crop against the horse's flanks, urging it forward at a brisker pace.

The sun had finished its full descent by the time she emerged from the woods, the lights of home summoning her as she finally took note of the icy chill that had begun to settle in her bones. The soft billows of mist followed her slowly out of the forest, trailing leisurely behind. By the time she reached the front door where one of the servants was waiting for her, it had all but enveloped the estate.

Elyse's heart continued to thump wildly in her chest, but not once did her expression betray her true feelings. She dismounted with grace before heading inside, the faint curl of a smirk tugging the corner of her lips when she noticed the mist was unable to cross the threshold of her father's door. She made her way up to her room with the housekeeper following close behind. There was an absentminded request for something quick and light for supper, which she would take in her room, but that was the only conversation that passed her lips.

The curtains to the windows of her private apartments were drawn, blocking any view of the outside world, and yet Elyse could almost feel his eyes on her as her lady's maid helped her undress for the evening. She could sense him as she nibbled at her plate of charcuterie beside the fire in her boudoir, sipping her wine and half-heartedly perusing a letter from her ex-fiancé that had been delivered express during her evening ride.

Lord Gregory Ashton's ardent pleas for forgiveness and impassioned insistence that things were not as they seemed, that there was more to his presence in her life than what met the eye – all of it was of little to no interest to Elyse as she tossed the letter aside, not even bothering to finish reading the epistle. The sustained bruise to her ego his infidelity had wrought would have been far worse had it not been for the delightful diversion the Count had provided, and she was grateful for it.

The thought of Dracula and the subsequent lack of distraction made her hyper aware of his nearness just then. She could still sense him, just beyond, somewhere out there in the darkness.

Waiting.

Beckoning.

For the next hour and a half she sat there in the silence, struggling against the temptation that proved hell-bent on stifling what remained of her self-restraint. The crackling heat of the fire in front of her offered little reprieve from the cold that persisted. Elyse felt her resolve crumble a little and she raised her hand to her brow, wondering if this obstinate restlessness she was feeling was madness or fever. Maybe both?

The small meal had done nothing to sate her appetite, and though she had spent nearly the entire day travelling, the usual fatigue that came with the hour eluded her.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked herself, standing to take hold of the mantle over the fireplace, gripping its edge for support. She felt weak, yet wired; starving, but not for the usual nourishment food provided. She didn't care that she was alone in this place, that in coming here she had isolated herself from all friends or family or proper acquaintance. She didn't want society or song or sunshine.

She wanted darkness.

She wanted  _him._

It was baffling, yet it was the only thing in the world that made sense.

Which is why when Elyse crossed the breadth of the room in a matter of strides before throwing back the curtains to the balcony doors, no gasp of surprise left her upon discovering Count Dracula standing just beyond. He had a look about him as if he had been patiently waiting for her surrender, as if he had anticipated it. But there was no expression of arrogance or triumph in his eyes as there ought to have been.

Only hunger.

A hunger that mirrored her own.

She opened the balcony doors, but then paused suddenly when the freezing night air served to slap some sense back into her listless brain. The pair stood wordlessly for several long moments, neither moving – he waiting for her invitation to enter; she teetering on the edge of safe retreat or a reckless plunge.

For the first time in their short acquaintance, Elyse could see why some called him the prince of darkness. Standing there, untouched by the freshly falling snow, he looked perfectly regal, towering before her in his usual black, a stark contrast to the sea of pure white that had gathered on the terrace behind him. The only color was in his eyes, a deep blue that warmed and chilled simultaneously – an addicting sensation.

But all the inexplicable lust in the world couldn't crowd out the nagging little voice in the back of Elyse's head…

"What's happening to me?" were the first words she uttered, hands still gripping the knobs of the balcony doors. The shift in his expression was subtle, but poignant and it sent a shiver down her spine. When he didn't answer right away, she persisted. "What have you done?"

"Nothing you did not ask me to do," he replied, remaining utterly motionless, save the barely noticeable way in which his cloak fluttered in the breeze.

"I feel different."

"You are different," he countered, taking a single step toward her.

Her grip on the brass handles tightened.

"Your bite…" she began.

"So ready to offer yourself to a stranger," he taunted, echoing the words he had uttered before and only now did Elyse realize they had been in warning. "Such  _uncharacteristic generosity_ should be rewarded, don't you think?"

His musings unnerved her, yet still her heart danced wildly in a morbid excitement that was borderline indecent. It was like being torn down the middle, split between two separate natures:

Self-preservation and self-destruction.

"What is happening to me?" she asked once more and with added emphasis.

"The venom from my bite has awoken something in you… something  _wicked_. Something pure…"

He paused, standing before her now.

Reaching up as if to caress her cheek, he paused, fingertips never meeting their mark. He was still hindered by the laws that kept him bound, restricted from the house. He had to be invited first, and while her soul may have bidden him entry long ago, the words had never been uttered; and so he stayed his hand.

Instead, he whispered, the breath of his words just barely fanning her face.

"All your life you have walked a razor's edge, a flirtation between what is socially acceptable and what your nature demands. From your infancy, you have been doomed to a life of subjugation, never allowed to experience the full extent of your female power; life without limit or reticence. You crave something more, Elyse. I sensed it in you the moment I laid eyes on you. Though your golden hair and angelic countenance might suggest the innocence and virtue so prized by your God and the mores of your queen, there is darkness in you."

"There is potential for darkness in all of God's creatures," she argued, though she only half-believed her own words, and he knew this the moment she uttered them. His smile was one of patience, of knowing.

"Not the kind that exists in you. You've always been drawn to it, haven't you?" His brow arched almost expectantly. "It's why you found friendship in the likes of Baroness Hayes. It's why disobedience and the disregard of societal convention has always come so easy to you." He leaned in close, but never crossed over the threshold – only lingered on the edge. "It's why you attended a masquerade of the undead without invitation over a year ago, why you placed yourself in my debt so needlessly… you've wanted this, secretly hoped for it from the start."

"I never said I wished to become like you," she interjected, translating the seductive garden of his speech. His expression, however, refuted her assertion. The ease with which he read her had the young woman taking a cautious step back, hands finally slipping down to her sides.

There wasn't an ounce of fear in her eyes – only suspicion, uncertainty, tethered to a pendulum that steadily swung ominously back and forth.

Preserve or destroy?

"Did you intend this from the start?" she asked, the words more accusation than inquiry. But then he shook his head once.

"I rarely ever do."

"So why me?" she asked as he leaned forward, pressing himself against the invisible barrier that kept him separated from her.

"You asked."

"I never asked for this."

"Not with words, no. Perhaps not," he conceded. His eyes then grazed lazily over her figure, the smile he flashed her then somewhere between predatory and playful. He hadn't touched her yet, and in truth, he didn't need to. His presence had already affected her in such a way that she felt as if he had been caressing her for an age, her skin raw, aching. "What do  _you_  want of me, Elyse?" he asked after several deliberate moments of tense silence.

Elyse knew what it was she desired – they both did, but she dare not utter the words aloud. Her defiance only served to amuse him, his smile darkening as his eyes began to glow faintly.  _Invite me in_ , they seemed to say.

She wanted to, but to what end?

The longer she lingered under his gaze, the harder it was to think. All she knew was that there was this tenacious ache inside of her, some hollow space she was convinced now that only he could fill.

The way he licked his lips as his eyes loitered on her person sent all rational thought from her mind.

And she knew. The truth of it was, she didn't care what happened next.

She had lost and been betrayed by her only real friend. Her father had barely stepped foot on this estate since her mother had passed several years prior. Her brother was too busy with his own family to really attend to the needs of his youngest sister. She had been abandoned. What had she to lose, really? Elyse may have been a young woman blessed with all the comforts of the world, yet she felt impoverished, alone – adrift at sea and with no direction, no wind to carry her and no port to lay her anchor. In that moment, it seemed her only saving grace was the deliverance this dark angel was offering her.

Deliverance and purpose.

Little did she understand that she would be trading the leash and muzzle of societal convention for chains of gold, of shadow and mist, of crimson and moonlight. She should have cared, should have deliberated over the consequences a little more, but she didn't.

The seeds of a mindless hunger he had planted in her veins had already begun to take root and the pain of self-preservation was outweighed by the freedom assured by her self-destruction. His gaze promised her a rebirth from the ashes and so in a moment of madness, Elyse chose to burn.

Was it weakness or an act of bravery? Such questions would be the subject of much debate for decades to come; but if surrender meant liberty, then surrender she would – willingly and gladly.

She invited him in and he crossed the threshold with a look of determination. His mouth met hers in a tangle of tongue and teeth – devouring and branding at once. It wasn't long before she tasted the sickly sweet allure of blood between her lips when he scraped her with sharp canines. The pain was pleasurable, and that pleasure was addictive.

Elyse never heard him close the balcony doors behind him after entering, and she was only half-aware of the way he navigated them through the sitting room and into her poorly lit bedchamber. This space felt darker somehow, even with the well-stoked fire in the hearth.

But she liked the darkness.

She liked the taste of him in her mouth, his clean scent of leather, woods, and something vaguely spicy and sweet. His skin was soft, but his body firm – strong, powerful.

It made her feel weak, but the feeling was not at all unpleasant - something purely feminine to counter his maleness.

With one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other cradling the side of her face, his expert tongue quieted any lingering apprehension she may have been harboring.

The minutes between his initial entry and the moment he had laid her down on the bed were a blur – the caress of flesh and the velvet thrust of tongue in her mouth, a soft, teasing mockery of what was to come, a hot flare deepening and weakening her.

He removed his cloak and coat first, and then her night-jacket. Eager for more of him, she helped to pull his dress shirt from his body, their joint efforts occasionally interrupted by a kiss or a playful nibble.

It wasn't long before he was perched over her, situated between her legs as if he were perfectly at home there. He leaned forward and lightly nipped an ear. His tongue dipped out to soothe the sting and then his parted lips were against her neck. He sucked against her pulse, as though tasting her excitement and fear, before his teeth lightly scraped the sensitive skin, enough to make her quiver.

The prick of pain when his fangs broke flesh was nothing compared to the deepening arousal that swelled and throbbed in her sex as he fed from her, a hand boldly palming a naked breast after slipping beneath the open collar of her nightgown. The blood loss left her feeling hazy, weak, yet strangely more alive than she had felt in days.

Pausing only to exchange one act of gluttony for another, his blood-stained lips trailed down from her neck and along her collarbone, dipping into the hollow of her throat to taste the salt that pooled there. His fingers curled around the linen that kept her decent before tearing it away with one sharp tug. The cold night air felt splendid on her fevered flesh, nipples tightening from the exposure only to furl when his mouth closed hotly over one, sucking sharply.

There was a twinge of shame that began to surface as he feasted uninhibited, but the slant of his mouth over hers silenced whatever half-hearted guilt her conscience tried to conjure. As she tasted her lifeblood on his tongue, his hungry fingers worked their way up beneath the skirt of her nightclothes, skillfully freeing her of her underthings before running over her core – flicking, thrusting, asserting.

She came, quick, voluminously under his skilled hand and he nipped at her skin again with sharp teeth, a moan escaping his lips as she gave all with zealous abandon and effortless trust. Her body roared with sensation as he partook of her once more, deeper this time and with a little more insistence, swallowing mouthfuls of that life-giving substance as it poured freely from her.

A second release was afforded to her, leaving his digits soaked in her arousal. Just when she thought she couldn't bear any more pleasure, she felt him, his hardened length like velvet over steel, gently pressing against her womanhood, teasing, testing. But it was that initial thrust – a gentle, but purposeful sheathing into her welcoming sex – that momentarily pulled her out of her lust-induced haze. She hissed – more in surprise rather than pain – for he filled her in ways she had always instinctually craved but never quite comprehended. There was a whispered word of reassurance that rumbled low in his chest before he let his weight rest against her and they were fully joined at long last.

Elyse waited for the reputed sting, the rumored sensation of being crushed and needlessly plundered – but instead she was only met with the delicious feeling of being surrounded and completed by his newly warm and very male presence.

The rest was pure instinct.

A dark and sinful dance of gliding flesh and delicious friction that eventually dissolved into pure ecstasy.

A third bite sealed her as his and just as she lingered on the cusp of another earth-shattering orgasm, she tasted the cold metallic tang of his blood on her lips and without thought she drank freely of his offering, a mighty gift. He rewarded her submission with oblivion and the pleasure was so intense, the entire world faded from view and she was lost in fire and darkness, body involuntarily trembling in the aftershocks.

Elyse came back to herself by degrees. Her first awareness was that of the Count sprawled above her, propping his weight up on his forearms to spare her. His icy blue eyes were glowing, heavy lidded with pleasure when she met his gaze. She could see the tips of his fangs, white as pearls and peeking out behind scarlet stained lips that were plump and breathless from their countless kisses. She opened her mouth to speak but then it hit her like an oncoming train, stealing her breath and tightening her chest as her heart seized.

_The pain._

The blinding, excruciating pain.

Dracula watched her with a knowing expression as her face contorted in agony, a rattled gasp tearing its way through her, but nothing could undo what had been done. It only took a small amount of his black blood to begin the transformation, the fires of Hell corrupting her body – a profane baptism of the undead.

A rueful smile etched itself upon his face as he tuned his ears to the slow minuet of her fading heartbeat. Moved by the subtle tempo, he caressed her cheek – a genuinely tender act on his part – as he whispered to her in his native tongue. Elyse couldn't understand the words, but there was something reassuring in his voice, even as he seemed to savor the suffering of her transition.

In a terrifying moment of clarity, she found herself wondering what sort of creature could simultaneously pity and relish in the pain of another.

How little she understood.

How much she was yet to learn.

Eventually, she could withstand the torment no longer and she succumbed to the welcoming arms of unconsciousness, a darkness that overtook her mind and soul until there was nothing.

Sometime later, when the pain passed, the first thing she knew was how empty she felt, a hollow listlessness. But it was the hunger that awoke her; a nagging, insistent need that opened her eyes and breathed unnatural life back into her body.

She woke alone in her bed, sticky with sex and blood, but she was not alarmed. The obscurity of the night was soothing, though it offered no reprieve for the lingering ache in her belly.

Elyse rose, turning to find the Count still there in her chambers.

He was standing by the window, dressed only in shadow, his figure exquisite, the very model of male perfection, untouched by time. He sensed her admiring gaze and only moved to glance at her briefly before returning his attention to the moon.

"How do you feel?" he asked, but it was clear by his inflection that he already knew the answer before she could utter it.

"Ravenous," she said with sensuous determination and a mischievous grin. She missed the look of triumph that spread out across his features, but when he did finally turn, his face remained in shadow, irises glowing like balls of blue fire in the gloom. The window behind him opened of its own volition, the glacial night air moving through the room as he extended his hand, unmoved by the cold.

"Then come with me."

 


End file.
